


Every Time I Close My Eyes

by CatiiaSofiia, MissChrisDaae



Series: Dark Paradise [1]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, BDSM, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Murder, Past Rape/Non-con, Public Masturbation, Public Nudity, Sexual Slavery, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-10-16 05:45:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17543822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatiiaSofiia/pseuds/CatiiaSofiia, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissChrisDaae/pseuds/MissChrisDaae
Summary: Eleven years ago, the Battle of Theed was lost. Qui-Gon Jinn was slain by Darth Maul. Obi-Wan Kenobi fled the planet. Anakin Skywalker seemed to vanish into thin air. And both Naboo and its young Queen were left to the mercy of the Trade Federation.Since then, the Republic has crumbled, and from its ashes, Sheev Palpatine, secretly Darth Sidious, created the Galactic Empire. His right-hand man, Darth Vader, is known as the most powerful, fearless, and ruthless Sith in the Galaxy’s history, the perfect enforcer for the Emperor’s will, and it is with this in mind that Vader is sent to Nal Hutta to deal with the Hutts. What he doesn’t expect is to be presented with a personal gift from Jabba.That gift is Padmé Amidala, or, as she is now known, the Whore Queen, the crown jewel of Jabba’s harem, all traces of purity and innocence purged from her soul. And while murdering Hutts is all too easy, undoing the damage wrought on Padmé’s mind will be the greatest challenge of Vader’s life.But for her, he would do anything.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work with mature, not safe for work themes that might be triggering, specifically rape. While we will never depict rape “onscreen,” the story deals heavily with its impact and aftermath, and will also include many uses of gendered slurs connected to sex.

If there was anything worse than being a slave to one Hutt on Tatooine, it was being stuck in the presence of every Hutt in the Galaxy on Nal Hutta. The stench alone was overwhelmingly putrid, and the mere thought of the fat slugs sitting on their thrones made the urge to vomit all the more powerful.

As the Imperial shuttle landed, Vader made only a disgusted sound as the ramp opened to let him and a handful of his Battalion out of the comfort and into the hot, swampy planet that was Nal Hutta. The Emperor had given him an order and Vader was _happily_ obliging to his Master’s commands. No one would have more pleasure of carrying them out than he would.

He was received by Jabba’s tribe and lead into the Palace. His walk was confident, arrogant and his golden eyes glowed as he watched every single Hutt that lined up to meet him. They spoke in Huttese. They thought Vader could not understand anything they were saying. So, they insulted the Empire. They insulted him. The corner of his lips lifted in a cocky smile. If they only knew Vader spoke their language as fluently as he spoke Basic, they might have been more careful.

One by one, each of the Hutts had their slaves present Vader with chests of gold, spices, datasticks, all meant as tributes to the Empire while their protocol droids and servants translated to make it seem like they were flattering him. The rest of the court would clap to further reinforce the illusion, but some of the bounty hunters had the sense to be wary. They knew that Vader was an infinitely worse enemy than any Hutt, his ruthless reputation preceded him in every corner of the Galaxy.

As the last bits of applause died down, Jabba began to speak, and his protocol droid— Vader hadn’t bothered to hear its designation— translated. “The Mighty Jabba observes that all of these are gifts for the Emperor and the Empire. He wishes to offer a personal tribute to Lord Vader,” the droid said, making the language much more flowery than what Jabba had said, which was more accurately translated as ‘ _bring out the whore.’_

There was a loud groan as one of the doors on the far side of the audience chamber was raised. Several of the Hutts made a rumbling sound of pleasure as the band switched to playing a more sultry tune that was quiet enough to let the sound of clinking metal be heard. Vader turned his head to see the source of the sound and a small, quiet gasp left his mouth.

To say that it was a woman would be an insult. The attending slaves who flanked her in the typical garments of Hutt captives were women. But the one in the center was nothing short of glorious, a goddess. The other women were clothed in dark, dull colors, she was adorned in shining gold cloth that artfully displayed her ample breasts, slender limbs, and sculpted body. Their hair had been pulled back into single thick plaits, her radiant brown tresses were sculpted into countless tiny ones that grew loose at the small of her back and held away from her face by a twisting golden crown. Their skin was bare, her throat was decorated by an elaborate collar of gold and glittering jewels that matched her crown. And where they were unmarked, her fair skin was painted in red glyphs from nearly every language in the galaxy, most noticeably the one written on both her arms in Huttese. _Shag Kwee-Kunee._ Slave Queen.

The way her face was painted helped him put the last piece of the puzzle into place. Pure white, marked by two red beauty marks on the cheeks, crimson paint on the upper lip and a single stroke of scarlet down the middle of the lower lip. This was Padmé Amidala, the former Queen of Naboo. Many in the Galaxy had forgotten about her, about her story. They believed her to be dead, missing, or hiding.

Vader, however, remembered her very clearly. _Are you an Angel?_ The words echoed in his mind, memories that he longed to forget, creeping up to him.

She still walked like a Queen, striding confidently to stand before Jabba’s dais and sinking to her knees in front of the corpulent gangster. Vader’s brow furrowed as he saw her kneel, it was a position that did not suit her and the Sith was eager to remove her from Jabba’s claws. The other slave girls detached the billowing train from the back of her costume, revealing a skirt cut into panels that gave a glimpse of her supple legs and the faintest hint of the womanhood between them.

“ _This one is here to serve you, Exalted One,”_ Padmé intoned in Huttese, keeping her head bowed before Jabba. “ _What is your will?”_ The ugly, guttural language sounded wrong in her soft, sweet voice. And yet, at the same time, oddly seductive.

_“Put on a show for us, Slave Queen,”_ ordered Jabba. “ _And make it a good one._ ”

Padmé rose as the drummer among the musicians began to strike a beat. She extended one arm, and then the other, clapping in time to the rhythm as her feet began to carry her across the floor. As she lifted one leg to spin, Vader caught a whiff of some kind of flowery perfume mixed with a deeper, headier scent. And he saw the folds of her clit, glistening with some kind of oil and completely bare of any kind of body hair. He had to bit the inside of his cheek to keep his composure. All of his training had not prepared him to his encounter with the former Queen.

The music began to pick up speed and so did Padmé. As the rest of the court had started keeping the beat, she stopped her clapping and placed her hands on her shoulders, unhooking a clasp Vader had not noticed before. The entirety of her golden dress dropped to the floor, leaving her standing in nothing but the jewels and the body paint. There were more pieces he had not seen before, a moonstone glistening in her navel, diamonds pierced through her nipples, which were surrounded by gold paint. And on the perfectly smooth mound that led to her nether regions were the glyphs that gave Nal Hutta its name. _Precious jewel._

Padmé’s dance took her closer to Vader, close enough that he could pick out individual braids in her hair as she swirled past him, dancing along the edge of the circle. Some of the bolder members of the court reached out, cupping her backside or her breast, tugging at her hair, anything that was within reach, and she leaned into their touch with a smile. He hissed, knowing exactly who he would strike first. His plan of letting Jabba be entertaining for as long as possible was going, very soon, down the drain and Vader would slaughter them all with pleasure to get Padmé safely to his ship, a primal need of protection consuming him.

Spinning back towards the center of the circle, she fell gracefully to the ground and spread her legs wide, giving everyone a view as she reached down and began to stroke herself. The smell of her arousal mingled with the perfume and the stench of the Hutts as her wordless moans grew louder, building to a climax.

“ _Nobata!”_ bellowed Jabba before she could finish, and Padmé immediately stopped, shifting back to the prostrated position where she had started. Vader shook his head slowly, breaking away from the spell she had cast on him.

“ _Has this one pleased you, Exalted One?_ ” she asked, her shoulders heaving

“ _It was a splendid performance. Does the sleemo think so?”_

“The Mighty Jabba wishes to know if you enjoyed the performance of his most prized slave, the Whore Queen,” the droid asked Vader.

“Yes,” was his short answer, licking his dry lips.

_“This is Darth Vader, Slave Queen,_ ” Jabba said. “ _You are his whore now. For good._ ” Padmé made no response, only bobbed her head slightly.

“The Mighty Jabba offers the Whore Queen to you as a gift, Lord Vader” the protocol droid informed Vader. Even if he didn’t, he would rip her away from him. While the dance had aroused him and made his body ache for her, his greatest need was to cover her, to protect her.

“ _What do you say, Slave Queen?”_

“ _This one is saddened to leave the service of the Exalted One, who has been a great master,_ ” Padmé answered. The other Hutts laughed and clapped while the rest of the court whistled and called out the names painted on her skin. Padmé didn’t flinch once. It had been a year and a decade since the fall of Naboo, Vader could not begin to imagine what Jabba and the Hutts had put her through. Suddenly, the darkness swirling around him intensified at the thought, his face becoming stonily cold and his eyes glowing dangerously.

“ _You have pleased me and my court greatly, Slave Queen. Do the same for this Imperial fool, so that he will show the Hutts favor when he replaces the current fool,”_ Jabba commanded in a booming tone that could be heard over the other voices. Vader lifted one eyebrow. Jabba would soon know just what this _fool_ was capable of. He had been patient for too long now and he was getting antsy, gloved fingers itching to grab the hilt of his lightsaber to end the hypocritical parade Jabba was leading. “ _Go to him now.”_

“The Whore Queen has been the favorite of all Hutt courts for many years,” the protocol droid informed Vader as Padmé rose and began to walk towards Vader in the same confident strut with which she had entered the room. “She is known for always bringing pleasure to her bedmates. She will serve you well.”

“This one is yours now,” Padmé said in Basic, kneeling in front of him while simultaneously raising her eyes to meet Vader’s. They were the same beautiful, deep, fathomless brown he remembered, but there was a gleam to them now. A kind of ice that had not been there before, shielding her true feelings. “Master.”

Vader removed one of his gloves. He wanted to really touch her, feel her skin. He cradled her chin and caressed her cheek with his thumb softly. “Don’t move. It will all be over very soon.” It was the first time he had spoken more than a single word, his voice low and gentle as he dropped his hand and raised his eyes to meet Jabba’s. Finally, he would strike. His Battalion was standing a few feet away and their orders were to kill the Bounty Hunters that would be foolish enough to come at him, however, the Hutts, were his to slaughter.

“ _Great Jabba, the Empire thanks you for your loyalty,”_ he spoke, loud and in Huttese. “ _However, your latest illegal dealings have not pleased our Emperor and unfortunately, we are to take action.”_ Vader grabbed his lightsaber and initiated it, the blood red saber casting a terrifying glow over the Sith’s face. _“I, however, thank you for your gift.”_

“ _He knows our tongue!_ ” One of the other Hutts shouted, turning a paler, sicklier color as he realized the offense that had been committed. But it was already too late.

The red blade of the Sith dispatched every Hutt in sight, Vader’s moves effortless and deadly as he took great pleasure, slaughtering the tribe, starting by the ones who so disgustingly grabbed at Padmé during her dance. He slashed protocol droids in half, leaving a trail of metal and disgusting Hutts’ body parts in his wake.The final one standing was Jabba, and Vader had barely exhausted himself as he murdered his entire tribe. As the slaves all cowered at the edges of the chamber to hide from his wrath, Jabba could only attempt to slither back on his dais. He was trapped, and everyone knew it.

Vader destroyed the protocol droid at the service of the Hutt, before standing in front of Jabba. “ _Any last words, you disgusting, good-for-nothing creature?”_

_“We could help each other,”_ Jabba implored desperately. _“I am the only one left, spare me.”_

“He’s a bad fuck, Master,” Padmé announced bluntly as she stood naked in the center of the carnage. “You were right to call him good-for-nothing, he begs like the scum he would throw to the Rancor.”

“ _Ungrateful slut!_ ” Jabba roared before Vader’s eyes flashed and he decapitated him. The head of the last Hutt fell to the floor with a tremendous thud that echoed through the hall.

“Now he no longer speaks or insults anyone,” Vader said coldly, turning around to look at Padmé, standing very calmly just like he had asked her to. He removed his heavy robe and came down the dais, wrapping it around her body and clasping it at the front. “It’s time for us to leave.”

“Sir,” his General came forward and saluted.

“What of the Bounty Hunters, Rex?” Vader asked, not tearing his eyes from Padmé’s brown ones. She blinked, furrowed her brow, and tilted her head to one side as if inspecting him.

“Some of them fled, and the ones that decided to stay, have been shot down.”

“Good,” Vader said, raising his hand to caress Padmé’s cheek softly. In the process, he smudged the white paint. “Take the slaves, remove their chips and send them to the Imperial Palace to be taken in.”

“What of _her_ , Sir?” Rex asked warily.

“This one belongs to Master Vader,” Padmé answered before Vader could, moving closer to him.

“She will come with me to Mustafar and is not to be mentioned to the Emperor.” Vader dropped his hand. “Come with me,” he whispered, stepping in front of her, walking out of the Palace and letting two of his most trusted soldiers behind, Fives and Echo, to gather the slaves to take them aboard. She followed, placing her bare feet delicately around the scattered body parts and rocky patches of the ground.

“What do you wish to call this one, Master Vader?” she asked as they approached the ship. “Jabba called this one _Shag Kwee-Kunee,_ but this one will be whatever Master Vader wishes.”

Vader stopped and offered her his hand to climb aboard his ship. “You have a name. I will call you by it. Padmé,” he said with his hand extended towards her.

She placed her hand in his but shook her head. “Master Vader is mistaken. Padmé is dead.”

“You look very much alive to me,” he squeezed her hand, helping her up the ramp. Rex and the rest of the group he had brought following them.

“This one is not Padmé!” she insisted firmly, then ducked her head. An immediate gesture of apology and subjugation. “This one does not mean to contradict Master Vader. If Master Vader wishes this one to be Padmé, this one will be Padmé. Forgive this one’s impertinence, it will not happen again.”

He looked at her with his brow furrowed, observing every inch of her petite self. “We will work on that,” he said with a small sigh. While she had been gifted to him as a slave, Vader was not inclined to treat her as such. For starters, he was against slavery, and no one in his Palace at Mustafar worked there against their will. The way the Emperor ruled the Galaxy was one thing, his personal home, was another. However, he knew it would be troublesome to break eleven years of slavery imposed rules, so patience was a must. He wasn’t very good at being patient, but for her… for her, he would.

Silently, and still holding her hand, he took her to a vacant cabin of the ship. “You are free to shower and while we don’t have female clothing aboard, we do have some clothes you might wear until we reach Mustafar. You can also rest easy. No one will disturb you and we have a few hours of travel to do.”

She undid the robe, dropping it to the floor the same way she’d dropped her dress. “Much can happen in a few hours, Master.”

Vader shifted from one foot to another and just lifted the robe with the Force, placing it on her shoulders again. “Yes, but nothing will. I do not want to bed you, Padmé,” _yet._ “All I want is for you to rest, clean this paint from your body and feel secure. No one here will touch you against your will and no one will enter without previously announcing themselves.”

“Why does Master lie?” she asked, sinking onto the bed of the cabin.

“I am not lying and I would like for you to stop calling me Master,” he said. “I will be available if you need me. I will leave you be.”

“You _are_ lying,” she said, emboldened by his leniency. “You do want this one. And you will have this one. Just as every other man offered this one has. It is natural. You desired this one, during the dance.”

He lifted one eyebrow. “I am not saying I don’t desire you, Padmé. You are a beautiful, desirable woman. That was not what I said. I am not bedding you,” he took one step closer to her and again caressed her cheek. “Unless you want me back. For now, I wish you to be comfortable. You were gifted to me, but you are not a slave anymore. I want you to trust me.” He paused. “Please.”

She leaned in and crushed her mouth against his, cupping his face with both hands as she did so. The force with which she did it brought their bodies slamming together, he could feel her hips writhing against his as her tongue bumped against his teeth. “Whether you are called Master or not, this one is yours,” she whispered against his lips.

Vader growled and kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her waist. It was not a demanding kiss, it was a fire-fueled one. He bit down on her bottom lip, asking for entrance and then he devoured her mouth, tasting her and simple being consumed by her. Yet, he pulled his lips away and nuzzled her cheek. “Get some rest. I will have a droid bring you some food,” he tightened the robe around her shoulders with a sultry smile and left the cabin.

“You will have this one,” she called after him. “As soon as you command it.” Outside her cabin, he listened to her words and just shook his head. _When_ he had her, it would be because she’d asked.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a month since her gifting to Lord Vader and the slaughter at Nal Hutta. And despite his insistence, she still knew him to be her Master. It was only a matter of time before he admitted it. He had, after all, given her a new name, despite his insistence on the first day that she was Padmé.

It might have been a slip of the tongue, but she had claimed it for her own, choosing only to answer him when he used it. _Angel._ There was something familiar about it that she couldn’t remember, but, more importantly, it wasn’t Padmé. She would _never_ be Padmé again.

Unlike her time in Jabba’s keeping, Lord Vader had given her complete control over her wardrobe, and she had used that, for the most part, to embrace her new name. In a palace of black rock and crimson lava, she was a being of pure white, dressed in feathers, diamonds, silk and lace that displayed her body, reminding her master of what was his for the taking.

Today, it was a web of white gems from across the galaxy, woven to fit her body perfectly and held in place by the collar around her neck and little clasps that attached to her various piercings. An iridescent train of pure white gauze trailed behind her and ropes of jewels went up around her limbs from her fingers and toes. Today was the day she was calling her master’s bluff, she could feel it.

“Milady.” One of the black-clad clones nodded as he passed her and she smiled at him.

“Is Lord Vader home?” she asked sweetly.

“Yes, he has just arrived. He is in his study if you wish to speak with him.”

Vader sat behind his desk, two datapads in front of him. Sidious had asked him to solve a political dispute and Vader was extremely annoyed at the mess that it was. He was not a political being. He used his force, his training, his saber to solve the issues, not his words and not a diplomatic answer. If it was up to him, he would just kill the two Representatives and choose two new ones willing to put an end to the discussion but his Master explicitly asked him not to do so.

“My lord?” The door opened without a knock and what entered was nothing short of a vision. Since he’d brought her to Mustafar, she’d flourished in the hostile environment, embracing her natural beauty rather than the mocking facade she’d worn during her time with Jabba. Her brown hair was unbound now, framing her pink cheeks in a halo of curls, and coupled with the angelic white of her outfit, the result was stunning. “You did not comm ahead to announce your arrival. I would have welcomed you home.”

She referred to herself as ‘this one’ less frequently with every passing day. He considered that progress. It meant she was developing a sense of self again. But of course, as she was saying this, she was crossing over to his desk and sitting on the corner with her legs splayed wide enough for him to see her clit. Taunting him, daring him.

“I did not want to disturb you and I have a lot of work to do,” Vader eyed her outfit and the way she offered herself. It was a constant in the previous month. She kept trying to have him bed her because, in her mind, that was her purpose in the castle and Vader was running out of arguments and decided that time would tell her he didn't want her to feel like that. She hasn't realized who he was, and he was not keen on telling her the truth either. Vader felt she might react badly and bring unpleasant memories to her. “You look beautiful, Angel, by the way,” he stood and kissed her temple. “Still not having sex with you,” he whispered in her ear, smiling.

“You’ll change your mind soon enough.” She crossed her legs and pouted as she leaned in and caught his hand. “Surely work is not more interesting than me. And you cannot disturb someone who has no schedule.”

“Work might not be more interesting than you, my dear, but it’s important. Especially when I don’t have the patience for politics,” Vader sighed before a thought crossed his mind. “But I believe you might be able to help me with that,” he beamed. “As a former Queen, you have all the education needed to guide me through this dilemma.”

Her eyes flashed for a moment before her face settled into a cold, neutral mask. “Side with whichever one will benefit you the most,” she answered bluntly. “Whichever one will show their gratitude more deeply. That was how the Exalted One and his clan did things, and they were a mighty dynasty until they fell to your most righteous anger.” Just like that, she was back in the slave persona he hated so much. “This one watched every day, and learned.”

“Ok, first? You have to stop calling that disgusting thing the Exalted One. It makes my skin crawl. Two, what did we say about calling yourself _this one_? Blast it, Padmé, I am giving you the opportunity of being free, why can't you accept my help?” He said, frustrated.

She looked away from him as if she were a petulant child being scolded by a parent. She sat there, not saying a word, just folding her arms under her breasts to push them up more. _Stop using that name,_ he heard her thinking, _please, just stop, I never want to hear it again, call me anything else, just not that name._

Had Jabba been the one to make her reject the use of her name? Did it run deeper, back to the Trade Federation? He couldn’t believe she would have done such a thing of her own accord, not when so much of the vibrant, brave young woman she had been still burned beneath her skin.

“Angel,” he called, more calmly, reining in his volatile temper. “I know it has only been a month and I can’t expect to break all the trauma Jabba inflicted on you for eleven years. I am not patient. It’s one of my flaws. But I am trying to help you build a new life for yourself. You are still young, there is still a lot for you to do in this Galaxy. Your life is not limited by what men think of you and I am only trying to help you. You need to let me, though.”

“There’s no trauma to break,” she said as she slipped off the desk and turned away from him, heading toward the door. “I won’t keep you from your work.”

“I don't know how long it will take you to realize you are a free woman, but once you do, I will be here,” Vader said before she left. “I will also wait on your response regarding my political problems.” She just gave him a sad shake of her head before closing the door behind her. His shoulders dropped forward. Many would ask him why bother with a slave? Why treat her like a person, instead of what Jabba had taught her to be?

But they did not understand. They did not understand that before being Vader, he was someone else, and that person had found hope in Padmé Amidala’s eyes and had failed her greatly. All Vader wanted was to save her, just like she had saved him years ago. 

* * *

He didn’t understand. How could he, when power was all he’d known? And he didn’t know the first thing about impatient, not when she was desperate for him to end the charade and bed her like he wanted to. She might not have been strong in the Force the way he was, but if there was anything she knew how to sense, it was desire.

She knew he wanted her. And, after a fashion, she wanted him too, in the way that she _could_ want anyone. Why he resisted was beyond her.

As she passed a set of troopers, a plan began to form in her mind. One that was risky, but what did she really have to lose now? Rather than return to the chambers he had given her, she took a left, heading to the castle barracks. As the number of clones she passed increased, her stride slowed. Her hips started to shake and she casually unhooked the train from the jeweled garments, smiling coyly at the men who looked at her. Even if she could not see their eyes through the visors of their helmets, she knew they were looking back. She knew that she was having an effect on them. Clones weren’t all that different from her, really, they were given a single purpose, they didn’t expect to do anything but follow orders. The question was whether she could use that to her advantage.

“Milady, did you lose your way?” one of the troopers asked as she drew nearer to the sleeping quarters. “This isn’t your suite.” He wasn’t wearing his helmet, and while there was little to recommend him or set him apart from his brothers, he would do for her purposes.

“Master Vader sent this one to serve,” she answered sweetly, sticking out her lower lip in a pout as her fingers traced a path up the chest of his armor. “Would you like to be the first, soldier?”

Before the trooper could open his mouth, a man cleared his throat behind her back and the soldier’s eyes narrowed before he saluted and scurried away. Angel turned around to see Captain Rex standing behind her, his black and blue armored figure cutting a menacing silhouette. “Milady, these are not your quarters.” He was not posing a question but stating a fact.

“So the troopers keep saying. This one knows,” she replied, her face slipping into a mask just as unreadable as his helmet. “What of it?”

“I am sure the Supreme Commander did not send you here to _serve_ any of us and don’t you worry, Milady, all of the troops have specific commands not to be swayed by your words,” Rex affirmed and grabbed her elbow, starting to drag her away from the barracks.

Her eyes darkened with rage as she tugged against his grip. “So this one is _not_ free?”

“According to the Supreme Commander, his Angel is not a prize to be ogled or touched by the troops,” he sighed as her weak attempts of escaping his strong grasp failed. “I will, however, be curious to see his reaction when he learns you willingly seduced his troops.”

“He does not want this one!” she insisted, still trying to pull away and thrashing wildly as that failed. “He says this one is free! Is this true or not?”

“Those are matters you will have to discuss with the Supreme Commander, Milady,” Rex replied, unbothered. “While you might not be a slave, it does not mean the troops are allowed to satisfy your wicked whims.”

“ _Wicked?”_ she repeated, laughing at the choice of adjective. “It’s _sex,_ trooper. Perfectly natural.”

“I imagine eleven years of slavery would have anyone find anything natural,” Rex ended up stopping and throwing her over his shoulders. “There. Now I can walk faster.”

“Let go!” she shouted, slamming her fists against his back as he carried her back towards Vader’s study. “Let go right now!”

The door to Vader’s study slid open and Rex entered, earning a raised eyebrow from his Supreme Commander. “My apologies, Sir, I found her wandering the troops’ barracks.”

Vader shook his head and stood up. “To what purpose?”

“Apparently, Sir, to seduce our shinies,” Rex replied.

“Set her down on the couch,” the Sith sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“As you wish,” Rex turned around and dropped Padmé on the black leather couch of the study, before saluting his Supreme Commander and abandoning the study. She adjusted her position to be a lazy kind of lounge that put her entire body on display, as if she hadn’t just been squirming over Rex’s shoulder.

“You lied, Master,” she said, resting her chin on her hand as she looked at him.

“What do you _kriffing_ think you are doing?” Vader growled, completely ignoring what she said.

“If I _am_ free, like you say, why does it matter to you what I do?” she countered, her face the picture of innocence, but her eyes demonstrating defiance.

“Don’t test me, Padmé, I hate when people do that,” he seethed. “While you are free, it doesn’t mean you are _free_ to bed all my troopers just because Jabba taught you your existence was meaningless without satisfying a man, or a woman. Tell me, Padmé, but answer me truthfully, do you really desire any of the clones?” His golden eyes glowed dangerously in the shadows of his office.

She didn’t answer him. _Stop calling me that name._

“I thought so. This was an act of defiance just so you could prove something to me. I don’t know what but…”

“You want a Queen who died,” she whispered so softly that he almost couldn’t hear. “Padmé is another lifetime. Another person. The Slave Queen is all there is now.”

“Then the _Slave Queen_ is also dead and you should make your peace with it,” he shouted, banging his fist on the desk.

“Then all I am is yours!” she shouted back without looking at him. “I cannot be on my own. I _need_ a master. Why can it not be you?”

“Because you need to learn to take care of yourself first. I don’t want a pet. I don’t want a slave. I want an equal, and until you find something in you worth fighting for, something more than _belonging to someone_ then we'll talk again.”

She laughed, but this time, it was hollow. “As long as I am here, you own me. If you truly meant to give me freedom, you’d send me off into the galaxy, and I would be able to find someone all too happy to let me call them master. That would be the better arrangement, don’t you think?”

“Is that what you want? To be loose in the Galaxy? To find the next disgusting excuse of a man so you are used as a toy? As a sex slave again?” He spoke coldly. “That’s what you enjoy then, isn’t it? Being used, being tortured, being raped night after night… if that’s what you want, I will have the next cargo ship dump you in the next blasted planet—”

“It is easier than being Padmé Amidala,” she corrected, cutting him off.

“Must be,” he replied without missing a beat. “You’re too weak to try and be something else, anyway.”

“What do _you_ know of the strength of a slave?” she shot back. “I _survived,_ that is more than can be said for countless women who have passed through Jabba’s harem.”

“You know nothing about me to think your history is more miserable than mine. Everyone has a story. Everyone has a past. Everyone goes through difficult times. We adapt and we survive. But this…” he waved at her. “This is not adapting. This is not surviving. This is existing until the day someone decides to put you out of your misery by killing you.”

“Are you going to dismiss me?” she pressed, and for a moment, there was the smallest hint of vulnerability and worry in her eyes.

“Gladly.” He turned his back on her to watch the threatening rivers of lava, swirling around the Palace. The entire room was silent except for their breathing.

“The trade dispute you were working on,” she said finally, “it’s Arkanis and Csilla, yes?”

He took a moment to respond. “Yes.”

“Take the chance on Csilla. Arkanis’ place is already assured in the Empire, they won’t jeopardize it,” she suggested softly. “The Chiss have much they could offer.”

Vader turned his head to gaze at her over his shoulder. “I will take that in consideration. You may go.”

“Yes, my lord.” She stood and slipped out the way she had came, the gems on her outfit clicking against each other as she left.

“ _Vader.”_ The comm on his desk blared to life, projecting the image of the Emperor. “You have kept me waiting.”

Immediately, he was on his knees, bowing his head. “My apologies, Master, I was only trying to find the best solution for our problem.”

Sidious scoffed. “Then why do I think it is more likely, my young Apprentice, that you were out hunting what few Jedi remain in the Galaxy?” It might have been a joke, but with Sidious, one could never tell. “I have given you these tasks because you are the heir, not just to the glory of the Sith, but of my Empire. I expect you to treat them accordingly.”

“I will never take any task you give me lightly, Master and I think giving a day off to the rest of the Jedi scum will only make the chase later that much fun,” his lips quirked up in an evil smile. “I have come to a conclusion, Master, that will benefit us. The Empire.”

“Tell me,” Sidious commanded.

Vader hesitated for a brief second, before speaking out. “We should take a chance on Csilla. Arkanis’ place is already assured in the Empire, they won’t jeopardize it and the Chiss have a lot they could offer us.”

“Hmmm.” The holo flickered as the Emperor settled backwards in the throne. “I will consider this. If it goes badly, Vader, there will be consequences, do you understand?”

A shiver went down his spine. “Yes, Master, I do.”

“Do not fret so. If it goes well, you will be handsomely rewarded,” Sidious promised. “Have I ever failed to keep my word to you, my friend?”

“No, no you haven’t. You were always truthful, Master and for that I am very grateful.” Vader stated. “How soon will I have news?”

“Within a week. But you will not be required to return to Imperial Center until the Empire Day celebrations,” Sidious reassured him. “Though there are many here who would like to see you sooner, I am sure.”

Vader’s lips lifted in a smile. “I understand, Master, but I am not sure if I am able to travel to Imperial Center until the Empire Day. I still have Jedi to hunt, after all.”

“Of course.” Sidious smiled in his vicious, leering way. “We will speak again soon. Be sure to report immediately if there is any new development I should know about.” The communication cut out as quickly as it had started.

He sighed and stood up, taking a deep breath. _If she only knew the truth, she would never accuse him of not knowing what it was like to be a slave._ Vader had trusted her instinct. If she was right, it would benefit them both greatly. If she was wrong, he was in for a torture session with Sith lightning. The scar on his neck burned slightly at the thought, the one remnant of his own time as a slave.

Maybe that was a place to start with Padmé.

Leaving his study, he went down the hallways leading up to her chambers. At her door, he didn’t bother to knock and simply entered. “Angel?”

She emerged from the closet, wearing a sheer black lace robe that barely concealed the fact that she was naked beneath it. “My lord?”

With a sigh, he unclasped his robe and placed it around her shoulders. They should talk about the meaning of being well dressed in the near future, “Come with me,” he grabbed her hand and dragged her from the bedroom, towards the turbolifts. She followed without a word, nearly tripping over her feet as she tried to keep pace with his much longer strides. Inside one, he pressed the button for the castle’s medical center.

“I was examined last month,” she reminded him quietly. “The doctor said I was healthy.”

“I am not taking you to be examined,” he declared, before pressing her close to him, one arm slipping under her robe, his finger grazing up her spine until he found it. The small bump, located in the middle of her back, where a brassiere would normally clasp. “We are getting this out of you,” Vader said quietly, gently.

She had been leaning into his touch but pulled away in surprise at his words. “What?”

“I am asking the emdee to remove the slave chip.”

“How did you,” she broke off, shaking her head as she kept looking at him in disbelief. “How did you know? It wasn’t in the physical report.”

“There isn’t a lot that escapes me,” he said. “I knew there had to be one. Then I just sensed for that abnormality in your body.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Why?”

“I told you that you were free, didn’t I? What good are words without actions? And if you do want to leave Mustafar, I at least can do that for you,” he shrugged.

“There isn’t anywhere I want to go,” she admitted. “And taking the chip out won’t change anything. Or fix anything. There’s nothing to fix. I made my peace with it a long time ago.”

“It’s a start,” he said, ignoring the rest. “I have decided to follow your advice and for both of our sakes, let’s hope you are not wrong."

“I’m not.” And with those two words, he knew that  _she_ was lying too. Padmé Amidala was not completely dead.


	3. Chapter 3

“They’re trying to scam you.” She passed over a page of flimsi detailing a labor deal with Zygerria, meant to pay for constructing a new Imperial base in the Outer Rim. “They’ll build it for cheap, kill slaves doing it, and charge you ten times what it costs.”

“I’m going to kill them,” Vader replied bluntly, grabbing the piece of flimsi to read it. “Who do they think they are?”

“They’re emboldened by the extinction of the Hutts,” she answered. “Killing off the biggest crime family in the galaxy left quite a power vacuum, every syndicate, slaver, and scoundrel in the galaxy is trying to seize on it.”

“Maybe they’ll get exterminated next,” he said coldly. “The power vacuum needs to be filled, and I understand that, but maybe it should be a family or a syndicate of our choosing.”

“I know all of them,” she reminded him casually, stretching out on the couch. It had become her perch of choice in the weeks since her chip was removed, and was now far closer to Vader’s desk. The sheer, onyx-studded fabric of her dress rustled and clicked as she leaned closer. “If you want an expert opinion.” She reached out and placed a hand on his forearm, her diamond-tipped nails glittering against the sleeve of his black robes

“Your advice has been nothing but exceptional in the last weeks, so I would be open to hearing your opinion,” he replied covering her hand with his own.

“Maybe later, I’m bored,” she said with a yawn, reaching past him with her other hand to grab another piece of flimsi. “And you have more time to solve the Zygerria problem than you do the one on Mandalore.”

“Mandalore is another one,” he sighed. “That Duchess can argue anyone to the grave and her Consort is sort of a...Great Negotiator, or something,” he rolled his eyes. “Arrogant prick, that’s what he is.”

“He’s a Jedi,” she told him bluntly.

“No, I know,” he leaned back in his chair, chewing on his bottom lip. Vader knew perfectly well who Obi-Wan Kenobi was. “But from the moment he married the Duchess and abandoned his life as a Jedi, he has diplomatic immunity.”

“The coward’s escape. He should have died with his Master,” she said harshly.

Obi-Wan had been involved in the Trade Federation mission along with his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn. Both of them failed Naboo. Both of them had failed Padmé and in a way, him too. Had the Jedi won, Obi-Wan Kenobi probably would have become his Master.

“Why not replace her with another Clan leader?” she pressed, gripping his arm a little tighter. “Pre Vizsla, for example?”

“I already discussed that with the Emperor but it’s too much of a nuisance. Pre Vizsla is disloyal. He could be compared to the Zygerrians.”

“He’s more easily bought,” she argued, releasing her hold on his arm and standing up to stretch. Her hands slipped around his shoulders, kneading at the knots in his muscles.

“I don’t trust him and for the Duchess… while she is a hard woman to deal with and her bargainings are blunt, I can’t deny she is looking after her people. Her planet. That’s, in a way, respectable. If we reach an agreement with the Duchess, we won’t go to war with Mandalore,” he sighed against her touch, relaxing in his chair as he felt her hands work away his tension. “Honestly, Angel, I have much more serious issues to handle than the Duchess’ tantrums.”

“As you wish,” she sighed dramatically, resting her head against his. “It if is what you think is best, then it is what’s best.”

“Well, I know who I won’t be inviting for their diplomatic visit,” he snorted.

Angel rolled her eyes. “I would not do anything to jeopardize you, my lord.”

He took her hand to his lips. “I know, but I wouldn’t put you in that position. I know what Obi-Wan Kenobi represents.”

“I can behave.”

“Angel, it’s not necessary,” he said softly.

She huffed and pulled away, looking out the windows at the fiery landscape behind him. “Do you think I would push him into the lava?”

“I feel like you are not lacking the purpose,” he chuckled. “I am more worried about what his presence might do to you.”

“Yours is the only presence that matters,” she insisted, pressing a hand against the transparisteel. “Your success means a better life for you. And thus a better life for me. You’re a good master, I don’t much want to be given to a new one.”

“I am not your master,” he pressed. “If something were to happen to me, you would be given to no one. You don’t have a slave chip anymore.”

“A chip is not the only thing that makes a slave,” she corrected him. “It’s on the HoloNet. Recordings of the last eleven years, everything I’ve ever done. In the eyes of the Galaxy, I am the Slave Queen. That’s a brand that doesn’t disappear.”

“I can change that,” he said, standing. “I can change all of that. I can give you an official position in my household and I can make those eleven years disappear from the HoloNet.”

She snorted. “Is that a command, my lord?”

“I’m serious, Angel. Just as Satine has her Great Negotiator,” he paused for dramatic effect, “you can be my political weapon. My advisor.”

“Is it a command?” she repeated, turning to face him and stepping closer, eliminating the space between their bodies.

“No, it’s an offer,” he whispered and nuzzled her cheek. “You can accept or deny it.” She raised a finger to his lips, tracing their outline.

“There are other offers that haven’t been accepted,” she reminded him huskily.

“There will be a time for those,” he eyed her lips, the memory of their kiss seared into his mind. “However, not yet,” he took one step back. “Think about it, Angel. Then let me know your decision.”

“I might take two months,” she warned petulantly. “Maybe even longer.”

Vader smirked. “I’m not in a rush,” he replied, sitting back down on his chair. “Take as long as you need.”

She sighed, tugging at the back clasp of her dress’ high neck as she turned away, slinking off toward her bedroom. Vader caught a glimpse of the scar from her surgery, the one blemish in an otherwise perfectly smooth landscape of creamy pink hidden beneath the black lingerie that had been on display through the dress. “You know where to find me.”

“Right back at you,” he replied cheekily.

* * *

“Lord Vader, I don’t like being kept waiting.”

“You expect an apology, Dryden Vos, when I’m the one doing a favor for Crimson Dawn?” Vader replied ironically.

“The Empire stands just as much to gain from a deal with us,” Vos argued petulantly. “Don’t think we don’t know how Black Sun is on the rise. You don’t want the Emperor losing power to them, so we’re the mediation. So, I suggest you stop playing games, and we get on with this.”

“Yes, but it is me that keeps you alive and breathing, or haven’t you heard the faith of the Hutts? They dared to defy the Empire. Defy me. It was not a very smart decision as you might have noticed,” Vader taunted.

Vos scowled but remained seated as the doors of the audience chamber parted, and the final member of their little conference stepped in. “Apologies for my lateness.”

“No apology necessary,” Vos said, his voice deepening as he leaned forward, getting a better look at the web of ivory straps and wings barely covering the body of the former slave. “Vader, wherever did you get this delightful creature? She’s exquisite.”

It took a few long seconds for the Sith to reply, for he was too busy gawking at the vision in front of them. She looked radiant, desirable and very much naked. When he decided to have her at his side in diplomatic encounters, he did not mean for her to show up offering her body as a bargaining chip to his opponents.

She sat on the arm of Vader’s chair, leaning against his shoulder. “Do _you_ forgive me, my lord?” she whispered sweetly.

“We’ll see,” he said through his teeth, clenching his jaw in annoyance. “Vos, this is Angel, an…advisor of mine,” he introduced her, even though she looked more like a treat than an advisor and he felt uncomfortable by just having her nearby and he felt his blood boil as Vos eyed her like a predator would.

“The name suits her.” Vos licked his lips, never looking away from Angel.

“Not as much as you might think.” She ran her hands through Vader’s hair.

“Yes, the name is just a formality,” the Sith replied dryly. “I believe, however, we have other things to discuss than my household and for that, Angel, you can’t be present, so please, remove yourself,” he said coldly, pulling away and not sparing her a glance.

“But—”

His head snapped to finally stare at her, golden eyes gleaming with an unspoken threat. “No buts, Angel. Leave. Now. _That_ is an order.”

She sighed and slid off the arm of the chair, slinking away in a sulk. Vos reached out to try and fondle her as she passed, but she slapped his hand away. Vader’s temper flared as the dark energy that enveloped him flickered. “You haven’t earned it,” Angel scolded Vos, tossing her curls.

“Out, Angel, _now._ ” He seethed, eerily calm.

“Yes, Master.” Whether the choice was deliberate or not, he didn’t have a chance to figure it out before she shut the door and Vos was forced to look back at him.

“Vader, Crimson Dawn will happily give you and the Emperor anything you want. If you’ll allow me an evening with that sumptuous little treat,” he said bluntly.

Before he realized what was happening, Vader’s blood red saber was at his throat, humming menacingly as Vader’s golden eyes looked down on him. “That will be a _no_ from my side. I know her tempting manners worked on you, but that woman is not a bargaining chip for me. She’s a work in progress,” he said calmly, but every troop under Vader’s command knew that that tone of voice, was the worst. It meant that a storm was brewing, that his temper reached its peak and no one should cross his path if they did not want to meet an untimely death. “ _You_ are never going to touch or see her, ever again. Crimson Dawn will bow to the Empire because I am letting you live today, and I am not ripping your head from this body even if every muscle in my body is telling me to do so, because you’re a replaceable creature that I could very well dispose of. You are worthless without the Empire and you are not going to defy me, are we clear? If the thought of betraying me crosses your mind, just remember that I can and will hunt you down like I did to the entirety of the Jedi scum in this Galaxy.” The saber came close enough to burn the skin of his neck slightly. “Do we have a deal?”

“Deal,” Vos choked out nervously.

Vader pulled away but didn’t shut off his saber. Instead, he pushed the datapad with the contract in front of Vos, inching back in his seat to try and avoid the saber. The gangster signed with his finger immediately, despite his hand shaking. “Our deal here is done.” He pulled the datapad away and saved it. “Rex!” He shouted.

The General entered the study and saluted. “Sir?”

“Escort our humble guest to his shuttle and make sure he leaves Mustafar as quickly as possible,” Vader ordered, saber still humming beside him. Vos scrambled up from his chair and followed Rex out. No sooner were they gone than Angel slipped back in, smirking triumphantly.

“You got what you wanted, didn’t you?” she asked with a purr, sinking into the chair Vos had vacated. He gave her a cold look.

“I’m taking care of your wardrobe,” he hissed as he left his office and summoned an aide to follow him.

“I did what I did because it exposed a weakness,” she argued, getting up and falling in step with him. The aide wisely averted his eyes, lest he accidentally be caught glancing at her bare breasts. “It gave you leverage and it got the job done.”

“If you don’t have any self-respect, I’ll do it for you,” he shouted over his shoulder as he barged into her bedroom. “Get every single piece of lingerie and take it away, as well as any dress that leaves her basically looking naked,” he ordered the aide as he grabbed Angel’s elbow to keep her in place. “Replace them with more modest wear. I don’t care if you have to replace everything.”

“You said I could wear what I wanted!” she protested, trying to wriggle free.

“I thought you knew how to dress yourself,” he argued, holding her in place. “I firmly believed that you would want to stop looking like a whore, but apparently that isn’t the case, so I’m staying true to my reputation and decided to be a tyrant and do what I think it’s best and if that means that you have to be covered up to your ears, so be it.”

“Make up your mind! Am I your property, or not? You cannot have it both ways!”

“Since you don’t know how to be on your own, maybe you should be my property so you can at least be seen with decency and until you can act like a respectable woman in public, I am not allowing you to participate in any other meetings.” He scowled as he saw the aide remove almost all of her clothing from the wardrobe.

She finally wrenched her arm away from him, falling on her bed. Like most of what she’d been wearing, there was absolutely no covering between her legs. “Finish the job then. Take what’s always been yours,” she challenged, her eyes blazing. “What’s stopping you?”

“You’re being pathetic,” he shook his head. “Cover yourself. Try to have some respect.” He turned around and left, stalking the hallways and making everyone in his path dodge in fear that they would be the target of his wrath. 

* * *

 Angel didn’t come out of her room for the next two weeks. Serving droids brought her meals, and one of them reported back to Vader, informing him that she’d tied herself to the bed, and refused to leave. Presumably, she was still using the fresher, but it was clear she was trying to make a point to him. Vader gave orders to ignore her tantrums and let her solve her own issues alone.

The result was that the entire castle was choked in a fog of resentment and tension that had not dissipated by the time the Duchess of Mandalore and her Consort arrived.

Vader received them alone. Of course, being in the same room as Obi-Wan Kenobi was not something that he desired, but it was something that he could not avoid. He knew Obi-Wan shared the same feelings for him. However, as much as they wanted to kill each other in a duel for the ages, they couldn’t. Diplomatic immunity. For both of them.

“Your Highness,” he gave a short bow of his head to Satine. “My lord,” he muttered bitterly acknowledging Obi-Wan with a glance. “Welcome to Mustafar.”

Kenobi gave him a forced smile. In different circumstances, the two of them probably would have ignited their lightsabers, started fighting then and there, and not stopped until one of them was dead. Instead, they had to settle for a sort of grudging rapport, poking holes in the façade. “How have you been, Darth? Still alone and full of anger?” The former Jedi Padawan asked dryly.

“How’s young Korkie? Have you disappointed him already? Better be careful, my lord, you don’t want to ruin another child’s life, do you?” Vader replied in a clipped tone.

“Our son is doing well,” Satine interrupted, her annoyance at the both of them clear in her voice. “May we come in and get started with our negotiations, Lord Vader?”

“Certainly, your highness,” Vader responded with a more upbeat tone. “May I?” He offered her his arm. She took it with as little contact as possible, as if he could somehow stain her if she touched him too much.”I don’t bite, your highness,” he snickered. “The Dark Side is not contagious either,” he quipped lightly as he guided her to his study.

“You don’t bite,” she agreed, “but the stains of the blood you have shed remain, and they do not agree with me.”

“Oh, well, we can’t please everyone,” he said, unbothered. “I do hope we can reach an agreement today, though.” The door opened, and he saw that Angel was sitting in his chair. Not lounging or exhibiting herself, but reclining gracefully in his chair as if it were the throne she’d sat in when she was Queen of Naboo. She was wearing one of the gowns Vader had commissioned, albeit one that wasn’t exactly modest. The lace fabric of the bodice was very skin tight, the silver crossing over her chest highlighted her cleavage, and her shoulders were left bare by the cape that ran horizontally just below them. Her hair was swept up in a sleek knot and her lips were stained red as Vader’s own lightsaber.

“My lord. Duchess Kryze.” Her brown eyes alighted on Kenobi behind them. “ _Padawan_.”

Vader was surprised to see her. Taking in consideration the previous weeks, he expected her to keep to her chambers, but he was pleased with her presence and had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing out loud at the shameless way she threw the insult at the Duchess’ Consort. Kenobi, for his part, said nothing, but the sight of her had startled him so much that his mental shields momentarily collapsed.

 _It can’t be **her**. She’s dead, _ he thought frantically.

 _Oh, it’s her. It’s very much her,_ Vader replied through the Force cheekily. _She was a gift. From_ **_Jabba._ **Kenobi began to shift his weight nervously and looked away, focusing all his attention on restoring his shields.

“Angel, I am glad you are… feeling better.” He let the Duchess’ hand fall as he approached her and laid one hand in the middle of her back. “Duchess, my lord, may I introduce you to my advisor? You may call her Angel.”

Kenobi blinked twice, but his shields held firm. Had he made the connection the former slave hadn’t? “M-my lady,” he stammered, moving very close to his wife as he bowed his head. Angel tented her fingers and smirked before rising from the chair, vacating it for her master.

“My lord, this is yours.” Her fingers traced the chair, but her tone was completely different, and for once, he wasn’t sure if she was putting on the act for him, or for Kenobi.

“Thank you,” he replied sweetly as he sat down. “Oh, Lord Consort, did I fail to answer your question early?” Vader asked, mentioning Kenobi’s previous taunt.

“Do we know each other, my lady?” Satine asked, looking at Angel curiously. The brunette only smiled sweetly.

“I can assure you we have not, Duchess. I have not been running in your social circle for over a decade,” she said, giving Kenobi another cursory glance.

“I am sure your husband will tell you everything about it later,” Vader intervened. “Dinner should be ready soon, but while we wait, Duchess, maybe you can start by telling me what is it that you wish from the Empire?”

“Pre Vizsla and his Death Watch acolytes continue to terrorize my people. Mandalore agreed to join the Empire on the condition that such things would not happen anymore,” Satine answered. “And yet it continues.”

“Last time, we mistakenly thought Pre Vizsla was put in his place, your highness and maybe, to stop the terror from spreading through your planet, a more permanent course of actions should be taken,” Vader replied.

“Unless, of course, the Duchess objects to violence being used,” Angel added dryly, her eyes never leaving Kenobi’s face. “Pacifism is a noble philosophy, but it often flies in the face of reality. Especially the reality of the galaxy we inhabit. Either you fight or you run.”

“I do not relish asking for your help, but we have tried peaceful solutions, and they have all come to nothing,” Satine sighed. “Please, Lord Vader. You may be able to persuade this insurgency where we have failed.”

“Pre Vizsla and his followers are not creatures that believe in peaceful outcomes, your highness, and your views, while respectable, are not strong enough to bring someone like him and his organization down,” Vader began. “I will help you. I will speak with Pre Vizsla myself. However, if I find words, even from myself, are not enough, I will rely on other methods that you might not be a fan of.”

“However abhorrent I may find him, Vizsla is still one of my subjects, I do not want to see any of them come to harm.”

“Sometimes, one life needs to be sacrificed so that everyone else can survive,” Angel interrupted bluntly.

“My advisor is right, Duchess. If Vizsla believes he is untouchable due to your beliefs, his methods will get increasingly worse. He might get bolder. Instead of terrorizing the people of Mandalore, he might start to punish them with death. I’ve seen it happen in rebel factions.” Vader said.

“You exterminate rebel cells without mercy,” Kenobi spoke for the first time. “You leave children without parents, men and women without their spouses. I don’t think you’re in any position to occupy the moral high ground—” He stopped talking as Angel shot him another death glare.

“Your words are touching, Lord Consort, as always,” the Sith sighed. “However, I do not wish to occupy a moral high ground, I wish to not _fail_ the Empire’s allies. The rebel cells I have taken out were a threat to the Empire. To myself. To my allies. And I am not the one that should think of fatherless children or widows. _They_ are responsible for that. If they do not wish to be prosecuted, hunted or killed, then they should know better than to go against the Empire’s forces, isn’t that right?” Vader disputed. “You sound very righteous, but I don’t see you having a solution to Mandalore’s problem.”

“Righteous extremism is not limited to one side. No doubt in the eyes of Vizsla, you are as bad as he seems to you,” Angel punctuated, leaning against Vader. “If it troubles you so much, Duchess, close your eyes and tell yourself that it’s the Empire doing it, not you. That way, your hands stay clean.”

“I will carry out the mission myself, Duchess,” Vader assured. “I can promise you that only Vizsla’s life is on the line. Death Watch members will be too lost to organize themselves. They will be taken into custody, if that’s your wish, and given a trial. The trial’s decision is out from both of our hands. This way, both of us get what we want. I protect my ally and you can be assured that no unnecessary lives are lost and plus, the people of Mandalore can finally be in peace and you can extend the curfew imposed on them.”

Satine looked at her husband, reaching out and gripping his hand tightly. “Would you give us a moment, please, Lord Vader?” she requested softly.

“Certainly,” Vader stood up and offered his hand to Angel. “Milady?”

“My lord.” She placed her ringed fingers in his palm and followed him out, giving Kenobi one last glance. Once they were out of the study, she bowed her head contritely. “Forgive me, I should have told you I was coming.”

“I am not mad at you, Angel,” he said quietly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m glad that you were present. _This_ is the political advisor I want. That I need. What made you come out of your imposed exile?”

“The Padawan,” she answered venomously.

“He was thrown out of balance when he saw you,” Vader nodded. “You affected him greatly, that much I am able to feel.”

“He should be.” Angel scowled, leaning into him. “Are you _sure_ you can’t kill him? The Duchess can find someone else to be her consort.”

Vader laughed and it was such a rich and beautiful sound, something she never had heard before from him. “I’m sure, Angel, trust me. I have thought of a lot of ways, but the end result is always the same. Mandalore turns against the Empire and Duchess Satine does not stop until many more join her cause. It would be chaos. The Empire does not need that. Let him live, Angel, sometimes that’s the worst punishment.”

She huffed and looked away, her disappointment radiating off her. “If that’s what you want.”

“I’m sorry, Angel, this is one request I can’t do for you,” he caressed her cheek with a loving smile.

“The list is getting longer,” she sighed, looking up at him pointedly.

“Oh, you’re being dramatic,” he beamed. “Your other requests are pending, my dear, not completely denied.”

“You’re cruel to torture me like this. I’m starving.”

“Dinner will be ready soon,” he replied, dropping his hands to the curve of her waist. She raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out if he was being literal, or tracking her metaphor. He winked at her.

“Please.”

He just chuckled at her reaction. “All in due time.”

Angel huffed, lifting his hands off her waist to move them up her body, placing them at the spot where her slave chip had once been. “I’m tired. I want to go to bed.”

“So soon?” He raised one eyebrow, before gently removing his hands, knowing she was trying to push him into what she thought was his endgame. “Won’t you stay for dinner? Torture Kenobi a while longer?”

“Maybe later. Finish your business and summon me when it’s done.” Her finger traced his jawline. 

* * *

After dinner, Satine decided to retire early, claiming she needed to rest before their trip in the morning and that she still wanted to comm Mandalore to speak with her son. That left Vader and Obi-Wan alone, in an uncomfortable silence. With a sigh, Vader stood up, knowing Obi-Wan’s eyes were following his every step. He went to the bar and grabbed one bottle of Corellian whiskey and returned to the table holding two glasses.

“Join me in a drink?”

Obi-Wan just stared at him suspiciously. Vader rolled his eyes, poured some liquid in one glass and downed it in one sip. “See? I am not trying to poison you!” He poured whiskey in the other glass and pushed it in Obi-Wan’s direction. “We can’t kill each other, might as well get drunk.”

“I have a feeling I’m not the only cause of your inclinations this evening,” Obi-Wan remarked, slowly moving from his chair to take the seat next to Vader. “That was a dirty stunt you pulled in the study, even by your standards, Vader.”

That tugged a smile on Vader’s lips as he sipped the whiskey. “I wish I had been that evil, Kenobi,” he said. “I can’t take credit for it. That was her decision. I didn’t think she would show up today, given how… _difficult_ she has been since her release from Jabba’s grasp.”

“Is _difficult_ how you characterize having a pleasure slave?”

“She is _not_ my slave,” the dark side whiplashed around them as his voice carried a power similar to thunder in it. “Like you, I believed her to be dead. Three months ago, Jabba gifted his… _Slave Queen_ to me before I ended his species in one fell swoop. I have been trying to reintegrate her in society ever since, but after eleven years of slavery, how _easy_ do you think that is?” Vader argued. Obi-Wan nervously downed the glass he’d been given and used the Force to refill it. “Yes. Drink. Maybe that will help you forget for a few moments that it was your and your beloved Master’s fault.”

“Darth Maul—”

“Excuses!” Vader spat as he refilled what was his third glass. “You failed. The Jedi failed. Admit it once and for all, Kenobi. Your precious Order failed. It failed Padmé. It failed my mother. It failed _me_.” He accused. Whether from the liquor or sheer obliviousness, Obi-Wan stared at him blankly.

“I don’t...”

“You wouldn’t,” Vader replied bitterly, knowing that Kenobi had no idea who he had been at the time of the Jedi’s fall. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“Why not set her completely free, then? Why keep her?” Obi-Wan knocked back his drink and held out the glass for a refill.

“Her chip was removed. She is a free woman. She does not leave because she doesn’t want to. Where would she go, Kenobi, when her home has been taken and destroyed by those vile creatures?” Vader shrugged.

“She could find a place on Mandalore. Or Alderaan.”

“If it’s her wish to go, she is free to do so. But not in any moment has she referred Mandalore or Alderaan as safe havens, so I’m not sure if she is inclined to leave. Especially when she doesn’t want to be referred to as Padmé Amidala anymore.” Vader argued and given that their glasses were empty, served them another dosage, summoning another bottle from the bar using the Force.

“Perhaps she stays because she feels she owes you a life debt.”

“She owes me nothing and she knows that. If you’re so keen on saving her, Obi-Wan, why don’t you talk to her directly?” Vader smirked. “But please call me, I would like to watch.”

The color drained out of the former Jedi’s face. “The way she,” he paused to cough and swallow. “The way she clings to you. She feels bound. That much I could sense.”

“You might be confusing that with protection. I’m protecting her until she has a sense of self again.”

“She’s building it around you.” Obi-Wan pointed straight at Vader’s chest before struggling to get up. “I need to say goodnight to Korkie too,” he slurred.

“You’re a lightweight, Kenobi,” Vader mocked, ignoring the former Jedi’s words. “Go. Say goodnight to your son and please, do me a favor, don’t fail him as well.”

“I’m a damn good father,” Obi-Wan insisted. “I love my son. I would _never..._ let him down.”

“Just make sure of that,” Vader said ironically raising his glass before drinking it all in one sip.

As Obi-Wan left, Vader decided to finish the bottle on his own. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so drunk he tripped over his own feet. Usually, he was not a lightweight, but given that Corellian whiskey was one of the strongest drinks in the Galaxy, he had succumbed to it and was now stumbling down the hallway, with one goal in mind.

Padmé. Angel. He wanted her and to hell with…whatever moral problem he was having before. He was a Sith. The son of the Dark Side. Since when did he have morals, anyway?

He knocked - more like banged - on her door. “Angel, open up. It’s me.”

She obliged, revealing a figure in a chaste white nightgown and matching lace robe, her hair only half unbound. “My lord?” She took a step back to allow him into the room. “You’re drunk.” It was an observation, not a question.

“What if I am?” He huffed and sat down on her bed, so close to the edge that he nearly fell. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right, Angel, I do want you. I want you so much, every day and you know? I don’t really have morals, so…” he stood up, stumbling and coming up to her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him. “You can feel me, right? How much I want you,” he whispered, brushing his lips over hers.

For a brief moment, she accepted the kiss. More than accepted it, she reciprocated in full, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and leaning in to deepen the embrace. But then she pulled back. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?” He asked frustrated. “This is all you’ve been begging me for three months!” Vader pulled away, looking as petulant as a child being denied their favorite toy. Her hands reached up, her fingers twisting into his hair as she pulled him down to her height, touching their foreheads together.

“You _will_ claim me,” she promised fiercely, “but not tonight. Not like this. If you take me tonight, then in the morning, you will wake and regret what happened, and send me away to assuage your guilt, and I will not have that.” She leaned in and her tongue brushed the shell of his ear. “ _When_ you claim me, Master, it will be because you finally understand that I am yours. Because you want to seal that bond for good.”

He listened to her words carefully. Blinking slowly at her, he nodded, a shiver running down his body with her touch. Vader was thankful that she had stopped him, for it would have been a terrible mistake, she was right about that. When he claimed her, he wanted to be in his right mind and remember every moment of it. His drunken stupor already leading him to a more drowsy stage as he nodded and then groaned, rubbing his head, pulling away from her and her intoxicating spell.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled and stumbled towards the door. “You’re right. G’night, Angel,” he sighed and left, supporting himself in the walls of the hallways until he was in his own room.

Throwing himself on top of the bed, without worrying about changing or getting more comfortable, he sighed, knowing that he must have looked like an idiot. Then, before he fell asleep, a thought crossed his mind. It was probably the first time Padmé ever told someone ‘no’. That she pushed a man away. That she felt confident enough to do so. However, next time, she wouldn’t say no. Not to him.


	4. Chapter 4

“There is one more thing,” Sidious informed him. “The DS-1 Orbital battle station is nearing completion. I want you to pay a visit to Director Krennic and Governor Tarkin. Inspect their handiwork. Perhaps even oversee a test of its capabilities.”

“Finally,” Vader’s smile was genuine. “It was about time, Master. The Death Star will become a powerful weapon that will end our enemies’ threats. No one can go against it. I will gladly take it for a test run. Pity that it can’t be used on a single individual,” he thought about the distasteful Tarkin.

“We _need_ the Moffs, Vader.”

“How badly?” Vader muttered, irritated. “Yes, Master, I understand,” he sighed.

“Get it done quickly.” The transmission ended, leaving Vader alone with the anticipation of the most powerful weapon ever constructed being in his command.

He left his study and quickly walked towards Padmé’s chambers. He knew exactly who he wanted to take on board of the Death Star. “Angel?” He knocked. “Can I come in?”

“I’m not dressed,” she called through the door. “Just a moment.” There was a rustle and then she emerged from the room, wearing a white sheath dress with elaborate lace cutouts along the side that gave away the fact that she wasn’t wearing underwear. “Is there a diplomatic visit I forgot about?” she asked, twisting a handful of her curls into a knot and sliding a thin gold pin into the nest to hold it in place.

Vader didn’t reply right away, too stunned by her effortless beauty. “Er, no, no, nothing like that,” he shot her a quick smile. “I wanted you to accompany me to the DS-1 Orbital battle station. Or, to make it easier, the Death Star,” he beamed.

She blinked slowly. “I don’t know what that is, my lord.”

“A weapon. The most dangerous one in the Galaxy. After me, of course. It’s a destroyer of planets, if you prefer. It has taken years to build and it will be under my command.” Vader explained. “I would like if you came with me. To watch it in action.”

A savage kind of interest flickered across her face as her fingers curled around the edge of his robe and she licked her lips. “When do we leave and what’s the target?”

He smiled wickedly at her. “We will be leaving in a few hours and the target is yet to be decided. I will love to hear your thoughts,” he said huskily.

She pulled him down, as she had done the night of the Mandalorian royal couple’s visit and whispered a name.

* * *

“So, Lord Vader, what is your verdict?” Krennic asked after they spent nearly two hours showing the Sith and his Angel around the recently built Death Star. “A magnificent piece, is it not?”

“It’s marvelous,” Vader replied. “It could do with a couple of touches, but it’s nothing critical, is more an…obsession of mine. Yet, it is stunning. A masterpiece.”

“But what matters is if it does what it’s supposed to do,” Padmé reminded him, curling her arm into the crook of his elbow.

“Eager, aren’t we?” He whispered to her, kissing her forehead. “We’ll get there, my Angel. Patience, little one.”

“We can demonstrate the capabilities now, if you wish,” Krennic offered. “There are several potential targets for a test of the low-power options, rebel bases we can target.”

“I have something in mind that will make more of a statement,” Vader intercepted. “Rebel bases are meaningless, problems we can easily deal with our current armada. No, the Death Star should show its real power, its threat, right from the beginning. Setting an example for the rest of the Galaxy and send a warning to our enemies. I sent a message to the Emperor who has agreed happily with our intended target.” Padmé’s nails briefly dug into his arm before she loosened her grip.

“I see,” Krennic said, looking a little nervous. “I was not aware. Was this discussed with Tarkin, and not me? Did he take credit for what _I_ have managed to do?”

“Naked ambition isn’t attractive on you, Director,” Padmé remarked dryly.

“Not everyone is so fortunate as you to be radiant in any circumstance, my lady,” Krennic replied smoothly. “I simply want to be given my due.”

“All credit will be given where it’s deserved. However, Krennic, neither you or Tarkin are invited for the front row seats of the show. Angel and I will be doing the test on our own,” Vader commanded. “You both can watch from the adjacent rooms.”

“My lord, the Emperor—” Krennic grabbed at his throat, gasping for air while Vader’s fist clenched, and Padmé giggled.

“Careful not to choke on your aspirations, Director,” she said sweetly, rubbing Vader’s arm to remind him to stop before the man was dead.

Vader released his Force grip, letting Krennic fall to the ground. “What the lady said, Director. You are dismissed.” Krennic gave both of them a withering glare before managing to get to his feet and stalk away, his cape billowing out behind him.

“What a sad little man,” Padmé sighed, shaking her head before leaning it against Vader’s arm. “The course has already been set, hasn’t it?”

“It has, yes. Are you still sure, Angel? It’s a decision that cannot be changed once it’s done.”

“Actions have consequences,” she said firmly. “And no one is free from that. Some people need to be reminded of that. There _will_ be retribution.”

“As you wish,” he kissed her temple as they approached the control room. Lower ranking officers who had been moving about snapped to attention as they realized Vader had entered. “Everyone, leave us.”

“Sir, someone needs to stay in order to send the commands to the other points within the base.”

“Then we should start working on a new system that lets those commands be automatic,” Vader said impatiently. “However, only the ones that are strictly necessary stay. Everyone else, leave.”

About half the personnel left the room, and Padmé moved to the viewports, watching as the shape of their target planet slowly came into view. “There it is,” she whispered, and her voice trembled slightly. “After all this time…”

“Supreme Commander, are you sure these coordinates are right?” one of the petty officers asked. “The Emperor knows about this?”

“Do I have to give explanations to you?” Vader snapped as he came behind Padmé. “It’s your choice, Angel, we don’t have to do this. I can destroy the Nemoidians another way,” he whispered to her.

“This is the best way to make them pay,” she whispered, her fists clenching the lace fabric of her dress. “They committed genocide. None of the Naboo or the Gungans remain, and the planet itself is desecrated and tainted by the conquest. It needs to be erased. So that they lose their trophy, and something stronger can arise from the ashes.”

“Then it’s final,” he hugged her tightly and kissed the curve of her neck. “Is the laser charged?” He asked one of the officials.

“Yes, Sir,” the young man replied timidly. “It is.”

“Do the honors, Angel,” he whispered in her ear.

Her hands unclenched, slipping towards her waist as her hips rocked back and forth against him. “ _Fire,_ ” she growled.

The officers looked at Vader who nodded, his face unreadable. The green beam of light, shot out of the Death Star and straight into Naboo, blowing the planet to rubble in seconds. Padmé’s hips sped up and she let out a gasp of anticipated delight. “Padmé?” He called gently, breathless, as he felt her arousal through the Force, fueling his own.

“Thank you,” she whispered, moving away. “I think I need to go back to your chambers now.”

“Go. I’ll need to speak with the Emperor before I join you, but it shouldn’t take long.” She clasped his hand in both of hers and kissed it in gratitude before slipping away. If any of the other officers had noticed the moment of repressed desire between the Supreme Commander and his lady, they did a very good job hiding it.

“There’s a private line available for you and the Emperor two doors down, sir,” a lieutenant offered from the control panel. “To the left.”

“Thank you, lieutenant,” Vader said, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath, after the charged moment he had just shared with Padmé. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep fighting against the natural desire he felt for her. Each passing day it was getting harder, but she was also getting better and that helped control his unruly emotions.

The room he’d been given was practically empty, save for a massive holo of Sidious that stretched his head and torso from the floor to the ceiling. “Lord Vader. I sense our first test was a successful one,” the old man croaked with a smirk. “The target was completely eliminated?”

“Yes, Master, the weapon is magnificent. All there is left of Naboo is rocks, like an asteroid shower. The power of the Death Star can’t be matched. The Empire is, once again, stronger than its opponents,” Vader beamed.

“When the weapon is recovered, destroy the moons too. Just to make sure the station is consistently operational,” Sidious ordered.

“It will be my absolute pleasure, Master,” the Sith replied.

“You have served me well, and for that, you will be rewarded on Empire Day, my young Apprentice,” the Emperor promised. “I sense a Dark, promising future is coming. The Death Star will bring the Rebellion and what few Jedi are left to heel.”

 _Master!_ Padmé’s voice came in a shriek that Vader had to block, lest Sidious hear it through the bond they shared as Master and Apprentice. “Yes, Master, thank you. I still need to gather with Krennic and Tarkin to solve some last minute issues. May I be dismissed?”

“Go.” The transmission ended without any kind of ceremony, leaving Vader free to bolt frantically towards his quarters. He was not expecting the scenario that he found. Padmé’s once immaculate white dress was torn up one side, the skirt stained with blood, giving her a terrifying look of angelic death. At her feet was Krennic. Dead.

“What happened, Angel?” He asked calmly. The Director’s death didn’t affect him. He was easily replaceable. But he did need to find a way to keep his death meaningless. To Tarkin and Sidious. “What did he do to you?”

“He said that if we were going to fuck him over, he would return the favor,” she answered as her chest heaved with breathlessness. She wiped the bloodied hairpin she was clasping in her fingers on her skirt, smearing further red stains across the silk. “I pulled this out of my hair and used it to cut his throat before he had the chance.”

“It’s okay, Angel, I’ll deal with this,” Vader said. “Go to the fresher, change.” He ignited his lightsaber. “If anyone asks, I was the one to kill him. He was a traitor. A rebel sympathizer. Agreed?”

She nodded slowly. “I understand. But I didn’t bring any other clothes.”

He decapitated Krennic before making a reply. “I’ll find you a uniform to wear, just wait in the fresher until I call you.”

Again she nodded, leaving the sitting room area to pass through the bedroom to the fresher. Before she left, she pressed the commlink on the wall. “Send a sanitation crew,” she ordered bluntly before closing the door behind her.

“Everything alright in there, Commander?” the clone on the other end of the line asked.

“No, I have discovered a traitor,” Vader replied. “I disposed of him, but I need his body removed and Governor Tarkin to come to my chambers at once.”

“Yessir, right away. Is Lady Vader alright? Will she need an emdee? She’s in there too, right?” the trooper prompted.

“She’s shaken, he tried to attack her. Bring her a fresh change of clothes, please.” Vader answered.

“Copy that. Comming the Governor for you now.” The transmission cut out just as Vader heard the water in the fresher start running. And another sound. It was the same sort of gasp that he’d heard briefly in the control room, the same wordless moaning that had marked their meeting at Nal Hutta. Not quite the same, actually. The moans were forming a word this time.

 _“Vader.”_ Over and over, _Vader, Vader, Vader,_ spoken aloud and echoing in her mind.

He let out a small gasp at the realization of what was happening. All of his body craved her touch, now more than ever. To know she desired him, not because she felt that burden as a slave, but truly desired him, made his decision of waiting, dissolve. He wanted to hold her, bury himself inside of her and take her, making her scream his name, over and over again, until they were both too tired to move, to speak, to do anything else but lie in each other’s embrace. Vader moved towards the fresher, the same moment he heard Tarkin’s sharp intake of breath at Krennic’s dead body. _I am going to_ **_kill_ ** _him._

“The clone said you had caught a traitor,” Tarkin said without waiting for Vader to turn.

“Yes, he’s lying dead at your feet,” Vader said dryly.

“Krennic was many things, but I never would have thought him capable of this kind of treachery,” Tarkin shook his head. “And yet, I don’t think much of value has been lost.” A loud bang came from the fresher and the Governor raised an eyebrow. “What was that?”

“None of your concern,” the Sith replied as the sanitation crew arrived, one of them holding a bundle of cloth that was probably Padmé’s new clothes. “I will speak with the Emperor about this betrayal later. For now, we have orders to destroy the moons once the weapon is recharged.”

“Of course, Lord Vader.” Tarkin nodded. “Were there any other targets? Did Krennic name co-conspirators before you dispatched him?”

“Some of the rebel cells we were already following. Apparently, the ones he had listed as potential targets were just to throw the Empire off their scent,” Vader said. “There will be no problem replacing him, I believe?”

“None whatsoever.” Tarkin bowed. “My sincerest apologies for this inconvenience, Lord Vader.”

“You’re dismissed,” Vader said, eager to be alone with his Angel and without interruptions. As Tarkin left the room, the sanitation workers loaded the pieces of Krennic’s corpse onto their hover trolley.

“Do you want this in the compactor, sir?”

“Do as you deem fit. Just get him out of here.”

“Yessir.” They began pulling the trolley out of the room as the sound of the water began to slow down to a trickle. Padmé was done in the fresher.

Vader approached the door and leaned against it. “They’re gone, Angel,” he said. “Are you done?” He asked, his lips quirking upwards. “You sounded like you were in the middle of something.”

“I finished,” she replied dryly, emerging from the fresher with a thin grey towel wrapped around her torso. Thin enough that Vader could see her nipples poking through the fabric as she hugged it close to her body. “You didn’t tell me not to.” Somehow, she managed to make even Imperial standard cleansing products smell intoxicating as the sterile scent wafted off her skin and her wet curls.

“I realized that,” he answered with a coy smile. “I have spoken with Tarkin and Krennic is to be seen as a traitor, so, no harm will come to you,” Vader stated. “Can I only ask why is this arousing to you?” He asked bluntly, sitting on the bottom of the bed, with raised eyebrows. “Naboo’s destruction, Krennic’s death…the power is turning you on.”

“Your power,” she corrected softly, but there was a hitch in her voice. A shift in her eyes. She wasn’t being entirely truthful. “It’s glorious. Are those the new clothes?”

Amused, Vader only nodded and pushed the clothes forward. “I don’t fully believe you. There is something else to this whole ordeal, so why don’t you tell me? My power arouses you but what else? What tips you over the edge?” Is voice was low, husky and his eyes glowed. As a Sith, his eyes should have been a sickly yellow like she had seen on the others of his kind, but not Vader. His eyes were liked melted gold, beautifully dangerous.

“You,” she answered dropping the towel to the floor as she took the new clothes. The bundled garments were all that stood between him and her naked body now. “Shall I go back into the fresher to dress?”

“I see,” his eyes sparkled. “Would you like to have power?” He offered as an unusual idea crossed his mind. An idea that might help her regain some control over her life, over the decisions that are made. It was something he had tried before. He’d never had the pleasure he had expected, but knew that with her, it would be different.

“In what way, my lord?”

“Over me, milady,” he replied cheekily. “What if, for this afternoon, I would exchange positions with you and I would be under your control?” Vader tilted his head to the side, gazing at her naked form in front of him, his own arousal becoming evident by the tightness of his pants.

She raised an eyebrow slowly. “You would be the slave?”

“Since you aren’t my slave, I would prefer if we didn’t use that term.”

“Then what?”

“Your submissive, milady,” he explained shortly. She looked down, staring at the clothes in her hands.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered. “You’ve been good to me.”

“Hurt me? Do you think that’s the only way there is, Angel?” Vader shook his head. “No. Sex can be pleasurable without inflicting pain. And even the pain that can be inflicted is for the other one’s pleasure, never to truly hurt them.”

“I’m no blushing virgin,” she reminded him, tossing the bundle aside so that she could put her hands on her hips. “I know how sex works. But I know nothing of what pleases _you_. Other than watching me. I don’t know where the line would be crossed.”

Vader shrugged. “I am sure you are a woman of many talents, so I will trust you on what could please me. The fun is letting you figure it out. If the line is crossed, I will tell you and I will stop you, so you don’t have to worry about it. We can have a safeword.”

She blinked, the term clearly unfamiliar to her. But what reason did she have to know it? The chance any of her previous partners had cared about her wellbeing was slim to none. “Explain.”

“A safeword is a word you decide before sex and once is uttered, it means that you have crossed a line and should stop. This keeps the relationship trustworthy and pleasurable without the danger of hurting the other unintentionally.”

“Choose one then.” Her voice became unexpectedly firm, she appeared to be slipping into their reversed roles easily, despite her protestations.

“Ok. Japor. If I say it, then you will know you have crossed a line.”

She nodded slowly, then pursed her lips. “Strip down to your pants and get on the bed. Stay there until I get back.”

“Yes, milady,” he complied with a smile as he stood up and began to strip down, and only in his pants, he obeyed to the following command of lying on the bed, waiting for her.

She slipped back into the fresher, returning less than a minute later wearing the jewelry she’d discarded and holding her blood-stained dress in her hands. Her eyes landed on the lightsaber still clipped to his belt. “Give me that.”

“That is my weapon and if I give it to you, it is to be put away safely,” he warned.

“You don’t get to decide what’s done with it, I’m in charge here,” she retorted, extending a hand to him. “Now hand it over.”

He paused, unsure. His lightsaber was sacred. Yet, in order to show her, he trusted her, he removed the hilt of the lightsaber and handed it to her. “There, milady. Satisfied?” Her hand dropped a little as she held it.

“Heavier than I thought.” She ignited it, slicing through the fabric of the dress until she had it in strips. “But you _really_ shouldn’t have done that.” The beam deactivated as she set the hilt aside, taking one of the strips and using it to bind his hands in front of him.

“Careful with that, it's not a toy, Angel,” Vader warned, his eyes darkening slightly as she tied his hands together. “What now, milady? That you have me bound in front of you?”

“You’re going to tell me what I want to know.” She lifted his hands up and lowered them so that they were resting on her shoulders while she straddled him. “An answer I like gets a reward. One I dislike gets a punishment.”

“Seems interesting, milady, please pursue,” he raised his eyebrows, amused.

“What would you have done if I’d let Krennic bed me?” she asked, one hand tracing the bottom edge of his left pectoral, right below where his heart lay beating. The other lingered on his face, her thumb stroking his cheek as she maintained eye contact. “Answer truthfully.”

“I would have killed him,” he replied darkly, and his muscles flexed under her touch. Her lower hand slipped between his pants and his skin, gripping the already hardening shaft of his member.

“Why?” she whispered, her fingers brushing gently along the organ’s length.

He bit back a groan at how she touched him. “Because he didn't have the right to lay his filthy paws on you,” he replied, his voice hoarse as he shifted underneath her, trying to obtain more contact. More friction.

“And why does he not have that right?” she prompted, pressing her lips to the base of his throat, right where his jugular pounded. “Say it.”

“You're mine,” he answered in a whisper, closing his eyes as he felt her lips on his neck and wanted nothing more than to rip the bind that tied his hands together and take her without wasting anymore time.

“Go on.” The pace of her hand grew a little more frantic as her hips swayed back and forth. The hand that had been at his cheek pulled away and grabbed his bound wrists, using them as leverage to send both of them falling backwards onto the bed.

Vader grunted as he felt himself grow hard. “You're mine and I don't want anyone else touching you.”

Angel pulled back, both her face and her hand, smirking as she placed her hands on the headboard of the bed. She used it to pull herself up until her cunt was directly over Vader’s face. “Very good. You must be thirsty.” A single bead of precum fell from the sweet pink folds, landing on Vader’s lips. “What do you say?” she asked playfully.

He greedily licked his lips, tasting her exotic essence. He groaned before he replied to her question with a very blunt action. He licked a long, hard stride over her folds before his lips sucked on her clit and the tip of his tongue teased her entrance. She sank down, taking his tongue deeper inside her. “Faster,” she hissed. “More.” He obeyed, sucking harder and moving his tongue faster against her folds and he moaned against her. Suddenly, she threw back her head, letting out a shriek that was almost inhuman as the sweet cream of her spend filled his open mouth. “Oh, Vader, _yes,_ ” she gasped, moving off of him with a smile. “I can’t wait to hear you say all that again when we’re _not_ playing.”

He gasped as he licked his lips, breathing harshly as he closed his eyes briefly. “You taste… _amazing._ ”

“Oh, I know,” she laughed, pulling his robe from the pile of discarded clothes and wrapping it around her body.

“Wait, wait…” Vader lifted his head, eyes narrowed. “What about me?” He asked, since his erection was still confined, but clearly evident in his pants.

“I suppose you’ll have to take care of it yourself while you’re in the fresher. Can’t let the Emperor see you like this, my lord, and you _do_ have to inform him about Krennic’s treachery,” she sighed, settling back into the couch with a yawn.

“Angel, you can’t be serious,” he sat upright, even with his hands tied up. He frowned and using the Force, he quickly untied them. Rubbing at his wrists, he scowled at her. “That is not fair.”

“You said I was in charge, and I say you wait,” she countered. “Unless that’s over?”

“You were in charge during _that,_ yes, but still…” he protested. “That’s mean. I took care of you.”

She cocked her head and smiled. “Tell me to take care of you, and I will. Forever. Your wish is my command.”

Vader paused and pondered for a few seconds, before shaking his head. “If you wanted to take care of me, you would have,” he argued standing up and wincing. “Now, excuse me,” he grumbled as he entered the fresher and locked the door behind him. Angel just crossed her arms as her smile became wider. She very nearly had him. It wouldn’t be long now before she finally had the master she craved.


	5. Chapter 5

“It doesn’t look very different,” Angel remarked as Imperial Center came into view. “I don’t understand why he bothered to change the name.”

“Power play,” Vader shrugged. “Coruscant was associated with the Republic and the Jedi. Calling it Imperial Center gives it the importance needed in order to become the Capital.”

“Hmm.” She fingered the enormous white gem that hung on the edge of the jeweled collar holding up her entire gown. “I think it could do with a few more changes.”

“Oh? Any ideas that you would like to run by the Emperor?” the Sith teased.

“No, I’ll keep them to myself for the time being.” She uncrossed her legs and slid down from the viewport where she’d been sitting walking towards him. “As his heir, do you live in the Imperial Palace with him?” she asked curiously, placing her hands on his shoulders.

“Before the Mustafar Palace was ready, yes, I did. Actually, Mustafar has been my official residence for only a standard year now, so it hasn’t been long since I left the Imperial Palace. I also had to wait for my training to be complete and that could only be allowed by the Emperor. Fortunately, my missions had splendid results. So much that he let me go,” Vader explained, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Did you have your own wing?” Her thumb slipped under the collar of his robe, kneading at a knot in his back. “I assume you still haven’t told his Majesty about me, given the command you gave Rex when you first received me. I want to know what I should do to stay out of his way while we’re here.”

“Yes. I do. The Emperor does not need to know who I have in my household or how do I manage it. He won’t pay you much attention, he usually doesn’t to people he finds to be…” Vader tried to find a more appealing word. “Unimportant.”

“I see.” She nodded slowly, lifting her hands away. “Even so, I would prefer not to encounter him.”

“He won’t bother you in my wing. It’s all yours,” he smiled and kissed her cheek.

“How long before we go home?” she asked with a pout, settling in the empty space next to him.

“A week.”

“Sounds like torture,” she complained.

“It will pass by in a blur, I promise,” he said.

“Will you be busy the whole time?” Angel stretched out across his lap like a loth-cat, giving him a clear view of her bare back and her silk-draped bottom as she looked up at him with a pout. “Or can I expect your company at some point?”

“I will be attending a lot of meetings with the Emperor. As you said, I am his heir. He wants to prepare me to take the throne,” he made a disgusted face at that. “I will keep you company whenever I can, I promise you.”

“Sir, we’re beginning our descent,” Rex announced over the comm, and Angel sighed.

“We could still turn back,” she offered, placing a hand over his heart and widening her brown eyes as much as possible. “Please, my lord?”

“I wish I could, Angel,” he sighed and kissed her forehead. “I’m obliged to be here on this day.” Scowling, she pulled away from him, slipping to the end of the couch and tapping her nails on the metal of the wall.

“If he marries you off, you’ll be a widower before the honeymoon,” she informed him.

He grinned widely at her. “I like how jealous you are of me. But I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Angel, he has never mentioned marriage to me. It’s not something he believes in.”

“But unlike him, you don’t have an heir,” she pointed out, avoiding his gaze. “Forgive me, my lord, if I don’t trust him not to surprise you.”

“I know how you distrust him, Padmé. I know who he was… before.” Her fist clenched briefly, then released. “The fact that I don’t have my own heir is not an affliction for him. Yet. I’m sure he’ll be introducing me to potential Apprentices soon and that is his main priority. To keep the Sith visible and present in the Galaxy.”

“Do the Inquisitors not suffice?”

“The Inquisitors do not guarantee the Rule of Two.”

“I didn’t know there was such a thing,” she remarked.

Vader sighed, clearly a topic he wasn’t very keen on pursuing. “There is but it’s not something that I want to bother you with. We’re landing.”

“Of course.” She sat up, smoothing down her dress and patting her hair into place. “Shall I wait on the ship, in case his Majesty will be receiving you?”

“Rex and Fives will escort you to my wing,” Vader said. “Do you mind?”

“I understand it needs to be done.” She reached out to brush his temple with her thumb. “But I always mind being separated from the one who has me,” she whispered tenderly.

“I do not have you. You are not property. Try to get that into that thick skull of yours,” he sighed, annoyed and tired of the same conversation.

“There are different kinds of ownership,” she said in a sing-song, standing up and giving a little shake of her hips. “I’ll join the clones now. If you don’t mind. You need a clear head before you meet your master, after all.”

Vader just watched her leave with a deep sigh. She was so complicated and yet, he couldn’t turn away, couldn’t leave her spell. More and more, he wanted her, but more than intimately, he wanted her whole being, her whole self. But he would have to shield those thoughts, those feelings. He was about to be with his Master and his mental shields needed to be perfect to protect her. 

* * *

With Vader occupied, Angel wandered the halls of his wing, inspecting the displays and the carvings of the wall. Although she’d never seen it, she knew this had once been the Jedi temple. Most noticeably, there were lightsabers decorating the walls, kept high enough that it would require the Force to summon them. She liked the image of it, the idea of the Jedi’s failures turned into trophies of her master’s success.

From down the hall, she heard the sound of feminine giggling and stopped. Did Vader keep maids rather than cleaning droids? Frowning, she followed the sound, coming to a set of white and gold carved doors that were at odds with the rest of the temple architecture. These were new, but why? Summoning all her strength, she pushed on the swirling gold patterns and felt the doors give way into a room that was filled with warm light, delicately painted murals, silk pillows, and…her.

The entire room seemed to be populated by women who looked like her, dressed in silky gowns of every color. They shared her hair color, possibly from dyeing it, her petite build, her wide face, but she could find the flaws and inconsistencies that separated her from them. “Who are you?” she demanded, clenching the edge of the door very tightly. “All of you! And what are you doing here?”

The one that looked to be the oldest one, in charge of the surrounding girls, stood. “We’re Lord Vader’s servants. We are all at his service, to satisfy his needs. Any of them. Are you here to join us?”

“He beds you,” she said slowly, stepping into the room until she was eye to eye with the leading girl. “Doesn’t he?”

“If you have to put it so bluntly, yes,” one of the younger girls replied. “That is the purpose of a harem. Does that mean you’re not going to be our new sister?”

 _Sister._ Angel’s brain shut down, regressed to the instincts of the last time she'd heard that word, her time in Jabba’s harem, where it had been her duty to inspect new arrivals and assess their qualities. Unceremoniously, she reached into the bodice of the green dress worn by the woman in front of her, squeezing and testing her breasts. “Pathetic,” she scoffed, withdrawing her hand. “Are you paid to be kept here?”

The other woman in front of her was in shock and took two steps back, feeling invaded. “Yes, but we are also well tended. Lord Vader makes sure we are properly taken cared of regarding our health, diet, and well-being. He’s very good to us and all of us are here out of our own will. Out of our desire to serve him and please him.”

“And please him we do,” a more arrogant woman in a pink dress added, eyeing Angel from top to bottom. “He hasn’t visited us in a while, so we expect we are finally going to be able to serve during his time here until he moves us to his new Palace.”

Angel let out a bitter laugh, striding over to the girl in pink. “You really think he’s going to take a collection of harlots like you to Mustafar?” She struck the woman across the face without warning. “If there are any others hiding in some other chamber, get them. I expect everyone in this harem to be here waiting when I return with Lord Vader,” she ordered bluntly.

The girl in pink whimpered and ran to hide behind the first one that stood, the one in green. “Who even are you to give us any orders?” The woman snapped, confident that this was not a new sister for them. “We don’t know you and we are certainly not going to be disrespected by a poor excuse of a woman like you. We will only be taking orders from Lord Vader and I will make sure this unfortunate event reaches him. You have no right to treat us in such a way.”

Angel threw her head back and laughed again. “My dear girl, I’m the Whore Queen. I was the jewel of Jabba’s harem for years, the most prized bedmate in the whole of the galaxy. I have forgotten more about fucking than you will ever know in your lifetime, and the reason that Vader hasn’t been back to see you or brought you to Mustafar is because now I belong to _him.”_

 _“_ It’s not true!” a girl in purple gasped.

“Like you said, _Whore_ Queen. It means nothing to us, Lord Vader will soon tire of you. You are one and we are plenty at his disposal. All that you can offer him, we can do it better. Your age doesn’t help you either,” the woman in green argued. “Soon you’ll fall out of the age range preferred by Lord Vader. You also won’t be the one chosen to carry his heir like our Emperor has promised us.”

Without flinching, Angel pulled a pin from her hair, the same pin she’d used to kill Krennic as she approached the girl, placing the point at the soft spot right behind her ear. “Unless you want me to drive this into your brain and kill you right now, you will get every whore in this wing together, in this room. And you will _all_ wait here until I return with Lord Vader. And then we’ll see exactly what he prefers. Are you going to be a good slut, or will I have to make an example out of you?”

The woman trembled with the threat but nodded. “Yes, we will see.” Smirking, Angel turned on her heel, storming out the way she’d come.

“Rex!” she shouted as her freed curls tumbled about her shoulders. “Fives!”

Both clones appeared and saluted. “Milady, what do you need?” Rex asked.

“I need Lord Vader. Now,” she said bluntly.

“I’m sorry, Milady, he is in a meeting at the moment. We are not sure of when the meeting will be over.” Rex replied.

“Is it with anyone important?” she asked, neither slowing down nor stopping.

Rex followed her in a fast stride, as did Fives. “Everyone in Imperial Center that is able to meet with the heir is important, Milady. It is not wise to interrupt the meeting.”

“Let me rephrase that.” Angel stopped and looked him straight in the eye. “If I were to board a shuttle and leave this planet for another if I weren’t able to see Lord Vader right now, would he be more upset by that, or by having a meeting interrupted?”

The General stopped and sighed at the threat. “He is with the Corellian Ambassador. It is an informal meeting and the Emperor is not present. I will escort you there,” he told her with a resigned tone and stepped in front of her, starting to walk in the same fast stride as she had before. Angel kept pace easily, and as soon as the right door was in sight, she passed the clone, tearing the door open. Vader immediately stood up, eyes narrowing as he saw who exactly had interrupted him.  

“Apologies for interrupting, my lord, but you are needed immediately. It’s an emergency,” she announced.

Something told him that she wasn’t pleased and that the emergency she claimed, was not to be taken lightly. “I see. Ambassador, will you forgive me? I will take into consideration what you’ve told me here and reschedule an official meeting for later. I will have someone contact you.”

“Certainly, Lord Vader.” Both men shook hands and the Ambassador left quickly.

“What is this all about?” Vader asked, looking at Rex first. The General shrugged and waved to the woman in front of him, taking a couple of steps back. “Angel?” Without saying a word, she grabbed him by the edge of his robe, dragging him back toward the harem. In a strange reversal, he was the one struggling to keep pace with her for once, and they did not stop until she’d reached the white doors.

“Something you neglected to mention?” she asked, turning to face him as fury radiated from her every pore.

“Oh, right, the girls.” He paled considerably, having forgotten about the harem that Sidious had insisted on him having after he turned sixteen. The girls had been carefully chosen, and it was with them he had learned how to fuck, to put it bluntly. Some of the first ones were experienced and when he became experienced, more virginal ones were chosen, but always out of their own accord. Never sex slaves. No, this harem was not like the ones Padmé had grown accustomed to. These girls were bonded by a mutual choice, not enslavement. “Tell me you didn’t hurt them,” he glanced at her, feeling the restlessness on the other side.

She didn’t answer, merely pushing the doors open and striding in like she owned the harem. “Is everyone here?” she asked, looking around to inspect the assembled women.

“Lord Vader,” one of the girls yelped, tears in her eyes. “She…”

“It’s alright, Prya,” he said soothingly, raising his hand to placate the worried girl. “Angel?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, no, it’s not alright,” Angel corrected, placing a hand on his chest so she could push him down onto the plush collection of silk pillows in the center of the room. “Because I understand exactly what’s been going on here. For as long as you’ve had this little collection, you’ve been bedding them and imagining me.” Before he could get up, she was straddling him, pinning him in place as she shoved his robe aside and ripped open his tunic. “Show them how you fuck the real me,” she commanded.

His eyes darkened considerably at the proposal. They were in front of ten, maybe twelve, girls and he knew they were watching with intense curiosity at the current predicament. Yet, the way she commanded him, the need to claim him before all the woman she knew had already had him before her, it aroused him and he lifted his torso to claim her lips, hands finding the clasp of the necklace of jewels that kept her dress in place. He ripped it open, sending jewels flying around them and the silk slip down her body.

Her breasts sprang free, perfectly rounded and perky, and a few of the girls shifted at the sight. Vader could feel the envy radiating off them, and if Angel could too, it seemed to be an aphrodisiac to her. As if to make a point, he released her lips, mouth coming down to take one of her nipples between his lips, giving it a hard suck, one hand grabbing at its twin, kneading the flesh.

As he was doing this, her own hands were making short work of his pants, ripping them open to free his cock. “Vader,” she moaned, stroking him to attention with one hand while the other cradled his head, pulling it flush against her chest. “Oh, _Vader,_ yes, my darling.” She delicately began to move the tip of his member until it brushed against the already slick folds of her womanhood. “Do you feel how I crave you?”

“Yes,” he moaned, releasing her breast and pulling her neck down to kiss her deeply. “Do you feel what you do to me?”

She responded by plunging her tongue into his mouth, swirling it around his as their hips rocked back and forth. “Claim me,” she whispered as they separated for breath, so softly that only he could hear. “I want to be yours forever. Now.” The last word came out in a begging whine.

He inverted their positions, throwing her on top of the silk cushions as he devoured her mouth, eager to taste everything about her. His hands moved up her hips, squeezing her backside as he pressed her against all of him. Vader sensed the girls around them, but couldn’t pay attention to them, not when this was finally happening, when he was finally claiming his Angel. In one, swift thrust, he was inside of her and she was deliciously snug, enveloping him in warmth and making him moan lowly in her ear, “Kriff, Angel, you feel so good,” he whispered in her ear.

“I was made to be yours,” she gasped, latching her legs around his waist to pull him further into her. Her lips found his shoulder and she bit down, not enough to draw blood, but enough to leave a mark. Her hips swayed beneath him, coaxing a surge of desire from both of them. “Please, please, fill me up, mark me, take me, I’ll do anything for you.” If he hadn’t had the Force, he might have wondered if these were simply lines she had learned in another lifetime, but her whole presence sang with the truth of her words. She meant all of it.

Vader found her pulse point at her neck and bit down, sucking so he could leave a very visible mark. The hold he had on her hips as he began to set a fast, hard pace as he thrust into her was sure to leave a bruise as well.

“Ohhh,” one of the younger girls moaned, collapsing against a nearby pillar.

 _That’s the most pleasure these tarts ever get from you again,_ Angel thought to Vader as her nails raked down his back. _I’m nearly there, please, please._ She wasn’t wrong, her climax was pounding, begging for its release like a stormy river striking against a dam.

His hand came down between their joined bodies and his thumb pressed down on her clit, hard, and circled it as he moved his lips down, to once again worship her breasts, leaving small bites over her flesh, red angry marks showing up after leaving him pleased with the way he was claiming her. _Mine. You’re just mine. No one else’s._

Her hips bucked against his as she keened, a single wordless syllable that seemed unending, and in that sound, a thousand declarations of her devotion, a million pleas for him to let her cum and to fill her with his own spill.

But, much to her displeasure, he pulled away in the last second before she fell into a blissful orgasm. “You’re not allowed to come right now, Angel,” he said, breathless. Her eyes widened, begging to know why, and a few of the other girls gasped. He had never been like this with any of them. “You are going to suck me, like a good little girl, and make me come first,” he said, beginning to pull away. “Payback, love,” he whispered with a smirk firmly in place, loving her doe eye expression and the reaction he got.

She nodded, pushing sweat stained curls back from her forehead before sliding down the pillows to bring her face directly under his legs. With one hand, she reached up, using two fingers to stroke from the tip of his shaft to the base before starting a consistent, rhythmic caressing of his balls. Then she raised her head up to properly place her lips at the end of his cock, giving it one small kiss before she opened her mouth wide, taking the whole length into her with one go. Vader moaned, reaching down to grab a fistful of her hair, keeping her in place and help guide her movements. He could feel her tongue writing something along the bottom of his member. _Yours,_ she thought in explanation, and he could feel her smirking despite the full mouth. _Fuck it like it’s my cunt._

He began to move his cock in and out of her mouth, establishing this time, a slow rhythm, letting the pleasure drag on for both of them, but knowing it would be dragging on for their audience as well. Vader took great pleasure watching his cock disappear inside her mouth and he felt the pressure building, knowing he was very close to the edge. He picked up the pace, fingers digging in her skull as he let out a masculine grunt and came inside her mouth, slowing down, releasing her. “Good girl,” he praised with a small smile

She licked her lips, reaching out to try and take the deflating organ in her mouth again. “More,” she rasped. “I could live on that alone.”

“Ssh, you’ll be able to take it again,” he instead took her hand to his shaft and wrapped her fingers around him. “Go on, I do need to let you come to your release, don’t I?” And with his hand on hers, he began moving them, pumping his member to a semi-hard stage again. “I’m always hard when I am with you.”

Using her free hand to brace against his arm, she raised herself to be kneeling too, never ceasing the rhythm that was reawakening his cock. As she looked into his eyes, he saw no trace of the ice that had been there when she’d been presented to him as the Slave Queen. Now there was only his Angel. “Now?” she murmured. A question and a request at once.

Vader kissed her and pushed her back down on the silk cushions. “Now,” he whispered, nuzzling her cheek before entering her again with a moan. Letting out a shriek of pleasure, she climaxed, writhing wildly beneath him as she rode the orgasm to its completion. The whole time, she was smiling up at him in pure adoration. He kissed her passionately, feeling for the first time, whole. She completed him and he couldn’t deny that any longer.

“M-my lord?” Prya stammered, shattering the spell and reminding him that they were not alone. Gently, Angel reached down, carefully disentangling herself from Vader and collecting a mixture of their spill on her fingertips, licking them clean as she surveyed the other women.

“ _My_ lord,” she corrected, lying back on the pillows and stroking Vader’s bicep with her free hand. “And as you all can see, your services will no longer be required.”


	6. Chapter 6

“You didn’t!”

“Oh, but I did,” Angel smirked, leaning back so that the girl could continue pinning her hair into place. This was her final day in Imperial Center before she and Vader would be returning home to Mustafar, and she had used every moment without him to establish her rightful place as the self-proclaimed queen of the harem. Most of the girls, including the haughty little one she’d slapped, Prya, had been dismissed, sent off into Coruscant to find new keepers, but Angel had decided to show the younger, more virginal ones leniency, granting them a place as her attendants.

“He let you tie him up?”

“And ride his face,” Angel confirmed with a laugh. “When you’re a little older, I’ll teach you how, so you can do it to your husband.”

“Who will want to marry a woman that was once part of the heir’s harem?” she muttered, eyes downcast and she finished Angel’s hairdo. “They would never believe me if I said he never bedded me.”

“The interest in virgins is highly overrated,” Angel informed the girl, turning to face her and cupping her chin in one hand. “Tell me your name again, little one.”

“Masika, milady.”

“Masika,” she repeated, brushing back the girl’s hair. “Take it from someone who knows. There is no one in the Galaxy who could be considered used goods more than I can be. And yet Lord Vader adores me. I kept you and your sisters because you are still young enough to learn not to take what’s mine and because I can mold you into the perfect virgin sluts for your future husbands.” She adjusted the pale yellow fabric of the girl’s bodice, pulling it down slightly better expose the curves of her breast. “You’re Lord Vader’s wards now, your duty is to help him seal arrangements with other planets. You do that by knowing how to bed a man while still letting it be your first time.”

“B-but how—”

Angel wiggled two fingers in front of her with a smirk. “This is how. You’ll see soon enough. But we don’t tell Lord Vader, he doesn’t like sharing me.”

Masika swooned. “That’s so romantic, milady.”

“Yes, I suppose it is,” she smirked. “Run along now, little one.”

The girl bowed and left the room beaming, but yelped when she opened the door and found Vader standing there, about to enter. “L-Lord Vader.”

“Masika,” he acknowledged her, stepping aside for her to pass. The girl blushed deeply and hurried out. “The younger ones are completely devoted to you. Do I even want to know what you are promising them?” He raised his eyebrows as the door closed behind him.

“The chance to be the best wives in the galaxy,” she answered with a wry smile. “They could be useful to you for strengthening future political deals.”

“Don’t tell me what you are teaching them, I prefer to live in ignorance,” he sighed and made a face. “Yes. _Once_ I am Emperor. Which I don’t think will happen anytime soon.” He sat on the bed and reached inside his robe. “I have something for you, as an early gift to ask for your early forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness?” she repeated, smoothing down the shimmering blue velvet of one of her new dresses. She’d insisted on having everything worn by the harem’s previous inhabitants destroyed, but since new clothes came to the palace every month from designers trying to curry favor with the Emperor, she now got the first pick of the spoils. Today’s gown was a high necked one with bare shoulders, sheer sleeves and a collar of gems that made her look like a river goddess.

“Yes,” he looked down at whatever he had in his hand. “We are not going home tomorrow,” Vader said. “Something came up.” He sighed.

“The Emperor?” she guessed with a pout, crawling forward to sit in his lap.

“Military exercises,” he explained as he played with the gems of her collar. “I will be away for a while. But after I return, we can leave for Mustafar and not return for a really long time,” he promised, running a hand down the side of her body.

“A really long time being ‘until next Empire Day,’” she corrected, pressing her lips to the mark she’d given him during their first time. She’d been giving it attention every day to make sure it didn’t disappear. She knew Vader could instantly heal it with the Force, but just to please her, he didn’t. “Are you sure you can’t make Rex do it?” Her hips began to grind against his lap, coaxing his shaft to attention.

He bit down a groan as his hands came down to squeeze her backside. “Unfortunately, no. Only the Supreme Commander can do it and I have to keep the troops in shape. You’ll have more alone time with my new _wards_ , if that is what we are calling them now,” he brushed his lips against her jaw, sucking on her earlobe.

“For legal purposes,” she confirmed, tipping her head back with a groan. “It sounds better than _pawns._ ”

Vader snorted. “Poor girls. They’re ruled with an iron fist, I see,” he smirked, rocking his hips against her core, pushing her backside down to meet his movements.

“If you don’t like it,” she gasped at the increased pace, gripping his hair for steadying, “punish me for it. I’d deserve it.”

“Your punishment should be whining for release until sunrise,” he said huskily. “Bringing you close to the edge, countless times, and never, ever let you fall from it.”

“Do it, then,” she goaded, rocking back and forth frantically.

He grinned. “Maybe when I return, I don’t have time to punish you so cruelly today.” Still, he pushed her off of him and onto the bed. “However, I can still give you a good spanking.”

“Oh?” She looked over her shoulder with a cocky smirk playing on her red-painted lips. “I don’t think you have it in you, my lord.”

His hand came down on her ass, unexpected and hard. “You were saying?” He taunted as he started to gather the fabric in his hands, exposing her backside to him. He slapped her again, just with the pleasure of watching her cheeks turn pink. She lifted her hips, trying to twist them so that his fingers would brush against her clit with the next stripe.

“Harder, I haven’t learned my lesson,” she whined.

Vader used the Force to tease her clit, as he massaged her backside, slapping her three more times without allowing her to rest. Her breath hitched with every strike and her entire body writhed. “Vader…”

“Are you close?” He asked, leaning down to drop a kiss on each reddening cheek. She nodded, letting out a little squeak as her body clenched. “Then I have to go, my love,” Vader replied, ending the teasing with the Force and pulling his hand away.

“No!” she wailed, scrambling to her knees and bracing herself against a bedpost. “Don’t leave me.”

He smiled and kissed her passionately. “That is your punishment, Angel,” he said, biting down on her lower lip, before pulling away.

“I’ve created a monster,” she gasped. “How do you know I won’t just finish without you?”

“You can, but will it be the same?” Vader teased. “Without being my cock, or my mouth to satisfy you? Nothing will give you the same pleasure and you know it. But don’t worry, I’ll return soon enough.” Almost forgetting the gift he had to give her, he retrieved the necklace from his pocket. Suddenly, he felt like a child. He had done that japor snippet when he was nine but never had the chance to give it to her. “Hmm, here, have this.” He extended the gift towards her, a bit shyly which was an odd thing on him, and she took it with wide eyes.

“Japor ivory wood. From Tatooine.” Of course she knew what it was, she’d been living on Tatooine for eleven years.

“It’s just an old… family heirloom. It’s for good luck,” he shrugged, not giving it much importance. “It’s not valuable or anything—”

“It’s perfect,” she whispered, looping it over her head and tucking in beneath the neck of her dress. “Thank you.” She slid off the bed and took his hands, kissing them both as her burgeoning arousal was momentarily forgotten.

“Behave while I’m gone, Angel.”

“Never, my lord,” she replied with a smirk. “What would be the fun in that?”

Vader laughed and kissed her forehead before leaving her alone in their chambers. Angel sighed, watching him pass through the atrium of the harem and close the doors behind him.

“Milady, is everything alright?” a girl who had been sewing asked. Niara? It didn’t really matter. She’d learn the names by the time they were leaving the harem to marry and have babies.

“Everything’s fine, it’s just the lover’s ache,” Angel answered calmly, refusing to let the girls see her wound up. “Go get your sisters, dear, I want to teach you a few things while Lord Vader’s working.”

“Yes, milady.” Niara set aside her project and began to hurry down the hall that held most of the girls’ rooms. Angel was rearranging the pillows of the center of the room when the doors were flung open again. She looked up, anticipating Vader might have returned to grant her a reprieve. Instead, two red-cloaked guards stood before her, holding force pikes.

“This place is forbidden to all men who aren’t Lord Vader,” she warned. “I suggest you leave.” Neither of them made a sound, but one pointed at her, then beckoned. Angel narrowed her eyes. “No. I don’t answer to you.”

“Milady!” one of the girls gasped as they began to file in. “Those are the Emperor’s personal guards! He’s summoning you!”

“What?” Angel gawked at them. “Why would he be summoning me?” _He shouldn’t even know I’m alive!_

“Probably just a test,” Masika offered, clearly trying to be helpful. “His Majesty tested all the members of Lord Vader’s harem so that he could be sure we’d be able to provide heirs that were strong in the Force.”

“I’m not going.” Angel insisted. “I refuse to be inspected or tested by anyone but Lord Vader.” The guard who had pointed strode forward and grabbed her roughly by the arm, dragging her from the room. “Get your hands off me!” she shrieked, trying desperately pry the iron grip from her wrist. There were no clones to intercede on her behalf, they were all off at the training exercises with Vader, and so she had to struggle futilely the entire way to the throne room. The guard unceremoniously flung her inside before sealing the door shut behind her.

“If it isn’t my beloved pupil, Padmé Amidala,” the Emperor spoke, sitting on his throne, looking down upon her. Her blood ran cold at the use of her old name. “I hear you became the Whore Queen of the Galaxy. Since you lost the throne of Naboo, I say it is a fitting calling, don’t you agree?” He hissed.

“Let’s not mince words, _Sheev Palpatine_ ,” she countered, slowly turning to face him. “I am what I am because _you_ sold Naboo out to the Trade Federation for the Chancellorship. You used me worse than any creature that bedded me during my time in Jabba’s harem.”

“I imagine they were plenty,” Sidious commented dryly. “Now you are in my heir’s bed, are you not? Do you think you’ll gain any favor or a chance to sit on this throne because you’re whoring yourself out to him?”

“I think that I finally have a master that it truly pleases me to serve,” she answered, primly lifting her skirts so that she could ascend the steps up to the throne. “One that adores me.” _Loves me,_ she corrected mentally, remembering how he’d whispered the pet name.

“Don’t be a fool, dear, Lord Vader is the most powerful Sith in this Galaxy. Love is an emotion he is unfamiliar with and one he will never feel. It goes against his dark nature. Don’t confuse his passion for love. That, you will never have. Who could love a whore such as you?” Sidious scoffed at her. “You can wear beautiful dresses, you can think you have some sort of worth, but in the end, you’re just the slave slut that Lord Vader is bedding until he tires of you.”

“I’m not his slave,” she said confidently, refusing to let the taunts shake her. “I’m his _Angel._ ”

“Call it whatever name you want, Amidala, you can’t run from who you truly are and what you represent to this Galaxy. Failure. Soon, my young Apprentice will see it and he will discard you before you affect him as well.” Sidious’ eyes flashed. “Don’t think your history with him as any impact on your miserable future.”

“Funny.” She sniffed, sitting on the arm of the throne and rubbing his shoulders as her mental shields intensified. “You seem to think that I’m ashamed of being what I am now. The truth is, _Sheev,_ the only thing I am ashamed of is the mistakes a little dead Queen made almost twelve years ago. Naboo’s destruction? That was _my_ call, not yours, Vader asking permission from you was a mere formality. Vader dismissing his concubines? Me staking my claim. And right now,” she paused, plunging her sharpened nails directly into the flesh of his throat, “I am eliminating my final, greatest failure. _You.”_ Her fist clenched around his trachea and she pulled.

Eleven years of using her hands to pleasure every kind of cock in the galaxy had given her enough strength to rip it clean out of his throat. Darth Sidious never had time to try and stop her, but for good measure, as she watched his body fall down the stairs, staining the carpeting a darker red, she retrieved the lightsaber hidden in his throne. _A son of Naboo to the end,_ she thought, igniting the blade and cleaving the head from the neck, just as Vader had done to Krennic. Then she sat on the steps next to her handiwork and waited.

Moments later, the doors to the throne room burst open and Vader entered, his lightsaber initiated, Imperial guards and members for the 501st were behind him and when they saw the spectacle, they started to charge towards her but Vader stopped them, eyes wide and alarmed. “No, wait. I’ll handle her.” He stated.

“Lord Vader, the Emperor—”

“Has died, yes, I can see that,” he hissed at the guard, not tearing his eyes from Angel. “Rex, take the troops and leave immediately. Tell no one.”

“Yessir!” The 501st saluted and left just as ordered.

Vader then turned to the Imperial guards. “The Emperor was found dead out of natural causes. No one was in the throne room. You never saw his body. You are going to leave and inform the Palace’s communication team so a statement can be put out to the Galaxy. Leave, now.” The red-cloaked heads bobbed once in a bow before they retreated. Angel gestured to the throne.

“It’s yours,” she said simply. “Everything in the Galaxy is now.”

“You’ve killed him,” Vader said quietly, approaching his Master’s dead body. “Why?”

“Because,” she replied, wiping her hands on the bloodstained hem of her dress, “Padmé Amidala trusted him. She called for the vote of no confidence that made him Chancellor. Because he orchestrated it that way, so that he would be the position to become Emperor. The occupation, the genocide, all of it was his doing. He needed to pay, and now he has.”

“While I don’t agree with what he has done in the past, there were better ways of going about this,” he muttered. “You should have waited for me.”

“There wasn’t time. Someone betrayed us and told him I was in the palace. His guards _dragged_ me here,” she protested, tears forming in her eyes as she began to panic. “I knew I was in danger, and I acted on instinct, I’m sorry, please don’t send me away.”

“I am not sending you away, I’m thinking of how this situation is going to be handled,” Vader sighed. “I never thought I would be Emperor this soon…” _I’m not ready. I don’t want to be Emperor._

“I’m sorry,” she repeated as her shoulders shook with sobs. “I’ll help you however I can, I won’t do anything like this again, I swear on my life.”

“Good.” Vader nodded, somber. “Because you’re going to take the throne.” He decided, staring at her right in the eye. “Don’t apologize for something you are not sorry for, Padmé. He is dead because you wanted him to be dead. You are not sorry for that, so don’t. Don’t apologize. I don’t want to be Emperor. I never wanted that burden in my life. I am very good in the Supreme Commander’s post and I don’t intend to switch that for meetings, diplomatic arrangements and people whining in my ears all day. You, however, have the experience and the thick skin for this job. You’re taking the throne. You’re the Empress.”

She blinked slowly. “I meant I was sorry to have made this trouble for you,” she explained softly. “I’m not sorry he’s dead, he deserved it. But I didn’t mean to cause you pain.”

“Well, you can make up to me by taking the responsibility of the Empire out of my hands. We can even pretend it was his dying wish, fake a will, I don’t care. But that throne,” he pointed behind her. “Is yours now.”

She hesitated for a moment, then placed her hand in his, using him to help her stand. Then she let go and took the last few steps, sinking into the throne as she kept eye contact with him. “I won’t stop needing you,” she whispered.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he replied softly. “But now you have to be your own person. Not a slave, not the former Queen, not my Angel. You’re Padmé Amidala, you’re the Empress. _Can you do this_?”

“ _Never_ Amidala,” she insisted firmly. “I will be the Empress this galaxy deserves. But to do that, I cannot be Amidala.”

“Then who do you want to be?” He questioned.

“Aivela,” she answered, invoking the name of the goddess of passion who had been revered in the days of the Old Republic. “So long as you still call me Angel when we are alone.”

“Empress Aivela, then,” Vader bowed his head. “Your Majesty.”

“Lord Vader.” She rose from the throne and cupped her face in his hands, pressing their foreheads together. “Thank you. I will not fail you.”

* * *

 “If I offer you a drink, will you call me a lightweight again?”

Vader turned around to meet Kenobi’s blue gaze. They were in the after party of Padmé’s coronation and everyone who was someone, was present. Eventually, Vader stopped trying to control Padmé’s whereabouts and drifted to the sidelines, trying to speak as little as possible and be sucked into a boring political discussion. It was a wonder how Kenobi found him near the open bar. Maybe he had been looking specifically for him.

“Depends. Are you going to trip over your feet after the third glass?” the Sith asked as the former Jedi held out a glass filled with Alderaanian toniray.

“I’ve moved past that, Anakin,” Obi-Wan answered dryly, taking a sip of the glass closer to his body.

The Sith was going to accept the drink before he paused and faced Obi-Wan, golden eyes guarded towards the man that, supposedly, would have been his Jedi Master. “You remembered me.” He declared.

“It fell into place when you placed the crown on the head of our new Empress,” Kenobi explained. “And for what it is worth, I am sorry for what happened to you. Which is why I will not be saying anything to contradict the story you have put out about the Emperor’s passing.”

Vader accepted the glass without acknowledging Kenobi’s words. “When I placed the crown, really?” He asked dryly, leaning in the bar as he took a sip of the drink and then swirled the glass in his hand, eyeing the liquid inside, watching the waves it made instead of facing the former Jedi. “What a great way to apologize to me, by maintaining order in the Galaxy. Good for you, Kenobi.”

“There was something in the tenderness of it. It reminded me of a very young boy I knew in another life, one who loved a girl who also no longer exists.” Obi-Wan sighed, shaking his head. “I suppose I believed the lie that you died at Maul’s hands all those years ago because I didn’t want to live with the reality.”

“That the Chosen One Qui-Gon Jinn believed would save the Galaxy, was instead the son of the Dark Side, meant to bring destruction and chaos?” Vader raised his eyebrows. “Because that’s what all nine-year-old kids want to hear after their mother is brutally murdered in front of them. Everyone choose to believe I was dead because it was easier. Easier to deal with, easier to move on. Who wants that burden?” Vader lifted his shoulders. “Don’t worry, I’m not angry. If there was something Sidious did very well, was teach me how to channel that into other things.”

“Does _she_ know?”

He paused, taking a long sip. “No. She doesn’t remember. I can’t blame her, her whole life fell apart shortly after she met me.”

“She wouldn’t blame you for it.”

“But you blame me, don’t you?” Vader asked, gesturing for the bartender to serve him another glass. “Qui-Gon’s death. You blame me. A part of you _wanted_ me dead.”

“That is not the Jedi way.”

Vader scoffed. “Stop being a hypocrite, Obi-Wan.”

“What kind of person would I be if I blamed a nine-year-old child for something he had no control over?”

“Human,” he replied bluntly. “Your Master went to Tatooine for help and came out of there with a child slave he claimed was going to save the kriffing Galaxy and that he was going to train him and blah blah blah, and then the great Jedi Master is dead, the Galaxy is screwed and I’m Sith food.” He shrugged.

“Maybe you’ve done it anyway.”

“What?” Vader asked, frowning.

“Amidala—” Obi-Wan caught himself, “Aivela will be a better Empress than her predecessor was. And she is Empress now thanks to you.”

Vader turned around to spot her speaking with the delegation from Alderaan, led by Bail and Breha Organa. “Padmé is a better fit than me. I wasn’t born to be the Emperor. I am better at leading the troops.”

“The two of you are going to be rather formidable together,” Obi-Wan knocked back another glass. “I should find my family.”

“Your son’s handsome, by the way.” Vader quipped teasingly. “Takes after his mother, clearly.”

“Thank the Force he wasn’t strong enough to be a Jedi,” Obi-Wan muttered with a bow. “Supreme Commander.”

“Lord Consort,” Vader bowed his head with a smirk.

“Hmm.” Padmé’s voice came from behind him. “What were the two of you up to?”

“Passive-aggressive banter, as always,” Vader replied easily.

“Did you tell him if he slips up even once, I’ll have him executed, alienating Mandalore be damned?” she asked, looping a black leather gloved hand through his arm.

“I think he knows, and come on, Angel, you don’t want to be _that_ Empress.”

“I suppose not,” she sighed, plucking his glass from his hands and taking a long drink from it. Her makeup left a scarlet smear on the rim.

“Handling yourself well?” He asked.

“I think today’s going to be very productive,” she replied, fingering the sapphire that dangled at the edge of her high-necked white cloak. “Plenty of plans being laid for tomorrow, but really, I’m more interested in how long it will take for everyone to get drunk so that I can steal you away.”

“It’s important for them to see you and for you to mingle with them,” he smiled. “We’ll have time, Angel, I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”

She slid the glass along the bar to a waiting serving droid, then withdrew her arm from his so that she could place them on her hips. “Good, because I need you to do some intimidating.”

“Already? Now I am curious.”

“What little is left of the Trade Federation just arrived. Don’t let them get near me,” she whispered. “If any of them try, take off a hand.”

“After what we did to Naboo, I don't believe they will be foolish enough to cross your path. But if they do, I'll rip their heads off, how is that?”

“Sounds delicious,” she purred, stroking a hand across his cheek. “I have to deal with the Banking Clan now, my sweet. But I’ll be thinking of you the whole time.”

“Good luck, Angel. Scream if you need me.” 

* * *

“Was that loud enough for you?” Angel fell back against the pillows, cuddling closer to Vader in the gloriously sticky aftermath of their simultaneous climaxes.

He nuzzled her head. “I think I can make you scream louder,” he smirked, kissing her.

“So that the entire population of Imperial Center hears us?”

“Obviously,” he quipped.

“Hmm.” She pretended to think about it, then turned away from him playfully. “No, that’d be rather rude. Besides, I have quite a bit of work to do in the morning. Maybe it’s best to get some sleep and pick this up tomorrow night.”

“As if you could resist me,” he whispered in her ear teasingly, tickling her sides. “You can’t sleep without wrapping yourself around me like a vine,” he gently bit down on her shoulder, leaving an angry red mark.

“Talk to me, then,” she requested softly, turning back to look at him. “What do you see in our future, Vader?” The japor snippet fell to the side as she turned, clicking against the gems in her nipples. “Tell me all about it.”

“Our future is whatever we want it to be,” Vader answered quietly, caressing her cheek. “I see a prosperous Galaxy. At peace, at least, with no oppression. I am a Sith and I know that saying that might go against my nature, but…” he looked away and after a few seconds, he shrugged. “I don’t take pleasure in wars.”

“You take pleasure in justice,” she guessed softly. “Then I hope you can forgive my depriving you of some.”

“There is nothing to forgive, love,” he brushed her lips, giving her a gentle kiss,

“Sidious was just as responsible for your suffering as mine,” she protested. “And you didn’t get to participate in killing him.”

“My relationship with him was complicated and you were the one that lost the most with his scheming. You lost your family, friends…home. You deserved that satisfaction.” Vader argued. “I don’t want to speak about him anymore. Our future is you and me. Together. We make a pretty amazing team, Angel.”

“Forever, my Vader,” she agreed softly, pressing his forehead together. “We will shape this galaxy into a world of our design. Leave it better than what we inherited. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Vader replied, a genuine smile in his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, on _Dark Paradise_...  
> Two years into the reign of Empress Aivela, politics are beginning to interfere with her personal life. She has always known that ruling requires sacrifice... but there are some sacrifices she is unwilling to make.


End file.
